A Matchless Match
by gotta B writin
Summary: Life post-Ohio was great for Blaine and Sebastian. Both men settled in the same city unaware of each other, until fate-or spectacularly bizarre timing-and prying friends with good intentions intervened. Co-authored with TheFauxMe AU/Future Fic
1. Someone Old, Someplace New

**AUTHOR'S NOTES (gotta B writin): What up, people!? Here it is! Finally! I'll keep it short, though I can't promise this same for my lovely writing partner. I'll be longwinded in my second AN…come on, it's me. Of course I'm gonna talk a lot.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES (TheFauxMe): ****Woohoo! Helloooo global audience! I'm so excited to finally see this up and running. I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it, though Gotta B **_**(GBW: OH YEAH!)**_** is the main reason for that. Okay, shutting up. You must read! And review!**

**DISCLAIMER: We own nothing expect for our sheer brilliance…jealous?**

— **Glee —**

**A Matchless Match**

**Chapter One: Someone Old, Someplace New**

"Son of a fuck you…" Sebastian mumbled to himself as he frantically tried to wipe up his spilt coffee with some Kleenex from his desk.

He continued a long stream of inventive and truly inspired expletives as he did his best to hold his body away from the piece of furniture while simultaneously wiping at the scalding-hot liquid that had just burned him, the reason for his spill. His lips still stung, cursing him as they moved, forming words and thoughts that went unnoticed by his coworkers in the room. The background noise of chairs moving, voices speaking, shoes moving across floors and the general chaos that accompanies a law office seemed to swallow Sebastian's frustrations, absorbing and layering them along with the rest of its insanity.

"Umm…Sebastian?" a timid voice asked, pulling him out of his hurricane of aggravation. He turned his head, doing his best to tame his features and shove his annoyance at being interrupted down into a deep, deep well in his gut. It wouldn't do to snap at one of his bosses. His annoyance quickly disappeared though, when he was met by a sympathetic and smiling face.

"Hey Annie," he said, his smile genuine and his anger dissipating like a puff of smoke.

"She's looking for you," she said with an exaggerated eye roll and as she gently shook her head and a soft laugh escaped when she saw Sebastian roll his own eyes and pick up one of the files from his desk.

"Does she need the—"

"No, she's needs you to bring her the one from las—"

"Oh, I told her that they'd be a lit—"

"She knows but she wants to see what you've done so far."

Sebastian let his mouth hang open slightly as he nodded in understanding. He set the file in his hands back onto his desk and tidied up some other papers that had thankfully escaped the wrath of his Benedict Arnold—he shot another quick glare at his now empty mug—placed them into another empty folder, and picked them up before following Annie down the hallway and towards the bank of elevators.

Sebastian had been working at his law firm for the past year or so, having been offered a job while he was still interning for them. It was an opportunity that had been secured for him by his father, one of the few nice things the man had ever done for Sebastian (aside from providing him with an offensively large trust fund and his classical good looks). While there was a large part of Sebastian that was too proud to take any help from the man that practically spent his entire time as a "parent" telling Sebastian how truly underwhelming he was, he refused to let the man's tainted aid get in the way of his career, and starting that career at one of the most prestigious law firms in Chicago was nothing short of a gift from Baby Jesus.

He tapped his foot, partly from impatience, as the elevator ascending up to the partners' floor, and partly from the dread that was coursing through him. He drummed his fingers along the smooth surface of the folder as if the motion might calm his nerves. Sebastian wasn't a nervous man by any means, but whenever he was on his way to meet his boss, he grew anxious, if only a slight amount.

Jessica was a junior partner and his direct boss. While she was a fantastic lawyer and someone who had already taught Sebastian so much about his profession and what it took to get ahead and stay there, she was also someone who was fully aware of the power she held over Sebastian. While most bosses tended to respect the lines of employer and employee, Jessica seemed to take those lines and casually brush them off as idiotic suggestions from a babbling, incoherent seven year old. He was being generous: she was a date rapist waiting to happen.

He shared a small smile with Annie as their eyes met in the small, enclosed space. He felt a calming sensation wash over him as his eyes traced the warm light that seemed to emanate from her eyes. It was as if she was some sort of weird Disney princess about five seconds away from singing a song about doing his best, while being accompanied by singing woodland creatures. Some people probably found her to be annoying or suspiciously happy—almost as though she was dressed by fluttering butterflies, every morning—Sebastian knew that he did after their first meeting when she started as Jessica's secretary, but he was soon charmed by her innocence and general sense of positivity. It was a refreshing oasis from the general cynicism and apathy that most people in the office exhibited. Her general good cheer felt very familiar to Sebastian, as though he already knew her even though he knew he didn't, yet it was a feeling that he rather enjoyed, embraced even. He was pulled out of his thoughts a few seconds later.

The doors opened and Sebastian found himself entering the lion's den.

— **Glee —**

"Go for Cooper."

Blaine rolled his eyes at his brother's greeting, sighing into his phone. "Coop, do you answer like that for everyone or do you save it especially for me?"

"I don't know, which answer is gonna bug you more?"

Knowing that this discussion could drag on for hours if he let it, Blaine shook his head and dropped down into the seat at his desk, staring at his sandwich mournfully. He could almost taste the neglected turkey as he glanced at his mocking clock, checking to see how much time was left in his break. He knew he could eat the tantalizing sandwich while he was on the phone, but years of etiquette lessons prevented him from doing so, even to his own sloth of a brother—unnecessary, considering it _was_ Cooper after all.

"Never mind," he replied dismissively, "The reason I called—"

"What? No 'How are you, Cooper?' or 'How's the new gig, Coop?' I'm hurt, Blaine. I'm cut to the quick! My heart is literally breaking as we speak! My own brother, treating me like I don't even matter," Cooper sighed dramatically on the other end of the line, his eye rolls and wild gesticulations were almost audible over the line.

Blaine sighed as he rolled his own eyes and once again checked the clock. He wished his brother had an off switch.

"Unlike _some_ _people_, I don't get to take breaks whenever I feel like it, so I'm trying to keep this short and sweet," he countered, not even waiting for a reaction before he ploughed on, "I'm going to be home late tonight—the kids have an after-school rehearsal they want me at and I can't get a hold of Sam…so I was wondering if you could swing by my place and—"

"Cook dinner?"

Blaine could imagine the way Cooper's eyes were probably lighting up at the assumed prospect. He allowed a small chuckle to escape his lips before shooting down his brother's playful, yet somewhat serious offer.

"That would actually be fantastic, Coop. Thanks! And then after that, why don't you go across the street and set fire to _that_ building too? I'm sure they'd really appreciate it," Blaine said, his words forming a small puddle of sarcasm on the floor, "Do you not remember what happened the last time I let you cook? I think my renter's insurance company actually sent a letter, asking that you never cook in my apartment again."

The Great Oven Fire of 2020 did not require a repeat. Blaine had been at a conference the entire day and had asked his brother to plug in their crock-pot at lunchtime—that was all, just plug it in. Blaine had come home that evening to a fire truck parked outside his apartment building and Cooper giving them a statement of what had happened.

"You need to let that go, Bl—"

"You set my apartment on fire, Cooper! You set an _entire building_ on fire!" Blaine yelled.

"A guy starts one little fire, _on accident_, and suddenly he's a pyromaniac," Cooper said, the bewilderment evident in his voice.

"I don't even know why we're still having this same conversation…" Blaine said, feeling a headache coming on. He would have pinched his nose in annoyance if it wasn't such a clichéd move.

"You don't trust me? Your own big brother, and you honestly don't trust me..." Cooper was clearly in the mood for melodrama, like every other day. It was a well-known fact that the older Anderson brother never met a situation he couldn't make more dramatic. Blaine worried for the cast and crew of what was supposed to be a serious stage production while simultaneously reminded himself that they had _chosen_ Cooper.

"Coop!" Blaine took a calming breath. Why he'd ever decided that calling his brother for assistance was a good idea, he'd never know. Blaine was beginning to think that banging his head against his desk a few times would have been a much simpler and less time-consuming way for him to get a headache. It certainly would have achieved the same ends as having a conversation with his brother.

"Focus, Cooper. I need you to go across the hall to Mrs. Forster's and help her with a couple of chores."

Mrs. Forster was a sweet, if marginally senile, old woman who kept to herself for the most part and Blaine often assisted her with tasks that were outside her reach or ability. She'd cornered him that morning as he rushed down the hall—his jacket half on, snapping his briefcase shut—and had begged him to change the burst light bulb in her bathroom.

He'd promised to get it done by nightfall for her safety and didn't want to go back on his word, but his kids wanted him and he couldn't deny them anything (it was his biggest weakness, he knew). He had tried to get a hold of Sam, calling his phone a few times during the day, but was only able to reach his voicemail: He was stuck, leaving Cooper as his last resort.

Unfortunately, because the man was clearly born without a soul, Cooper didn't share his brother's fondness for the neighbor.

"You mean the crazy old cat lady in number twelve?" he asked, horrified, "You can't be serious? She smells like death and always tries to set me up with her 51-year-old daughter—who, by the way, I'm pretty sure has her own apartment full of cats, not that _that_ is even the worst thing about that idea—and I don't even live there...anymore."

"Cooper, she—"

"Death, Blaine!"

"Don't be so dra—"

"She smells like _death!"_

When he'd first moved to Chicago, Cooper had slept on Blaine and Sam's couch, eating their food and running up their utility bills. His stay was short lived. Blaine had quickly lost all semblance of patience with his mooching older brother, deciding to call in the Big Guns (also known as their mother) and had Cooper relocated to an apartment of his very own.

"I don't have time to argue with you about this," Blaine sighed, glancing at the clock yet again and thinking about the laundry list of things he needed to organize before his lunch break was over. "My kids need me, Cooper. Go help the nice old widow out for me, do a good deed, let yourself in with that key you refuse to give back, and I'll bring pizza home with me."

There was a huff of annoyance on the other end of the phone, followed by a long pause.

"Are you—"

"Yes, I'm buying."

"Double pepperoni?" Cooper pressed, sounding like a five year old. "_Please _Blainers? She's really old and creepy…"

Blaine fought against a smile. "You know how Sam gets, Coop."

The blond was a Personal Trainer, and even the mere mention of greasy, fatty food often ended with impromptu boot camp sessions for all involved. Blaine remembered the one time he had brought him Chinese take out the previous month: Sam had acted as though he, Blaine, had proposed that they go and burn down the elementary school a few blocks over.

"I don't care, little brother," Cooper responded testily, and Blaine could easily picture him folding his arms and pouting: "It's extra pepperoni or the little old lady's on her own."

"Fine," the younger of the two agreed, his tone bordering on snappish while still eyeing his lunch. He'd just have to also get a thin crust vegetarian pizza to try and satisfy Sam's inevitable bitch fit.

"Look, Coop, I gotta go. Lunch is almost over. Promise me that you'll help Mrs. Forster out. I refuse to believe that my superhero of an older brother would ever let a helpless old woman suffer…" Blaine said, trying to appeal to his brother's ridiculously-sized ego.

There was silence.

"_Cooper_..." he switched tactics and tried for menacing.

"Yeah, yeah, Blainers, I'll have it all under control. Say hi to your Munchkins for me!" Cooper's patented grin could be heard in his words.

"You know they hate it when you call them that. They're too old for it."

"Yeah, but they love their Uncle Cooper and they know it. Let's be honest: everyone loves me. I'm pretty awesome. It's a fact."

Blaine snorted, "And that's my cue to hang up. Help Mrs Forster!" He added, before pressing the red 'end call' button on his phone.

Blaine set down his phone and breathed out a heavy sigh, realizing how much the conversation with his brother had taken out of him. Talking with Cooper always seemed to take so much effort. It was like riding a plane: you never really did much other than just sit there, but for some reason you always walked away feeling exhausted. He'd just raised his sandwich to his lips, his mouth salivating at the anticipation and his stomach growling in joy for its long-awaited meal, when there was a knock at the door.

"Mr. Anderson?" a soft-spoken girl asked.

He smiled and set his lunch back down, resigned to the fact that he probably wouldn't eat until dinner. It was the third time that week where Blaine was unable to eat his lunch…and it was only Wednesday. His days were nothing if not consistent.

"Hi Jennifer," he nodded with a smile, "What's up?"

"I didn't understand today's homework…I know this is your lunch break, but I was kinda hoping…that maybe…"

Blaine smiled at the girl's shyness.

"Well," he said, standing up, gesturing for the Junior to come into the classroom, "Why don't we look at what the assignment was and figure out what you _do_ understand and we'll just go from there. Let's open the book and look at page 394…"

— **Glee —**

"Shut the doors behind you," Jessica ordered without looking up from her computer.

Sebastian stilled his movements before turning on his heel and gently closing the door, catching sight of an encouragingly smiling Annie and jokingly mouthing a simple "Help!" with exaggeratedly large eyes. He was able to catch the sight of the secretary trying to hide her laughter behind her hand.

"So let's see your goods," said a female voice from behind his back. Sebastian immediately straightened himself and turned to face a smirking boss from behind a very expensive desk.

"Excuse me?" Sebastian asked despite himself. He was more than used to her behavior. He didn't know why he was startled by her heavily-laced innuendo: perhaps he could blame it on Annie distracting him?

"I'd like to see your briefs."

"Jessica, I don—"

"Show me the briefs you prepared for the case. Honestly Sebastian, what did you think I want?" came the husky question, the same smirk still present across her painted red lips.

Sebastian inhaled slightly, hoping to draw strength and patience into his lungs as he strode across the room and held out the papers for his boss to grab. He stood a bit farther away from her desk than he needed to, having to stretch his arm slightly for Jessica to grab onto the file. He noticed the amusement in her eyes when she clearly saw what he was doing and felt annoyed that he was just giving her more ammunition for poorly veiled remarks.

"Afraid I might bite?" she smiled, raising an eyebrow.

"Terrified," Sebastian answered with his own smirk, doing his best to reprimand himself for his mistake without letting her know.

"There's that tenacity that I hired," she remarked, her eyes scanning the papers in her hands.

"I'm sorry they're not done. I was working on the paperwork for filing the Morton case so that'd be ready for this afternoon. If you need me to, I can s—"

"No, that's fine," Jessica waved Sebastian off, interrupting him mid-speech, "I just wanted to check on them. This looks fine. You're doing good work, Sebastian, and I appreciate that."

Sebastian couldn't help but feel as though there was a second meaning to her words, but no matter how many times he ran her statement through his mind, he couldn't seem to find any sexualized interpretation to it. Perhaps she was loosing her touch?

"It looks like you're really doing well working under me," she purred, her smirk returning.

Nope, there it was: that inappropriate back-away-from-Little-Jimmy-slowly-with-your-hands -in-plain-sight sort of touch.

"What can I say, Jessica? It's an honor to be learning from a great lawyer like yourself."

Sebastian desperately fought back his own victorious battle cry when he saw her features slowly fall and form into an annoyed scowl. Apparently, nothing killed the mood faster than a cheap and overzealous instance of brown nosing. He quickly filed that bit of knowledge away for future use as he nodded his thanks and walked out the room. As he reached for the handle, it was as if Sebastian's ass cheeks could feel the power of Jessica's eyes on them.

"So how'd it go?" Annie asked as she smiled up from her seat behind her desk. She gently set down the pen that had been in her hand and smiled up at Sebastian

"Not too bad, she didn't even try to touch me once this time," Sebastian said jokingly while leaning over and picking up her stapler and waving it around absentmindedly.

"Well that's always a good day," Annie beamed as she casually reached over and grabbed the stapler out of his hands and placed it back on the desk. She began answering an email while Sebastian began to drum his fingers on the front ledge that jutted out from her workstation. As she typed, she continued her previously paused thought.

"You know I don't like to be an office gossip, but…" her voice trailed off as she pulled her eyes away from her computer screen and looked around their immediate area, scanning for anyone who might overhear her words.

Sebastian couldn't help but smile as he watched the battle being televised across her facial features. While most people started a bit of gossip with that insincere disclaimer, Annie actually meant it. She seldom ever said anything negative about another person—even if they really deserved it. She was a bit of a walking cliché in a way: She went out of her way to be kind and helpful to everyone in the office, she never swore, had a Bible Study that she went to on Wednesday evenings, and she always brought an extra sandwich that she gave to the homeless man that she passed every day during her walk to work. Sometimes Sebastian just wanted to yell at her that she wasn't auditioning for a Christian toothpaste commercial and to be normal, but then she'd just smile at him and he'd forgive any gross offenses (like being a nice and happy person).

"…but you're going to anyway?" Sebastian prompted with an amused grin.

"Well," she began, lowering her voice and placing her small stack of Post-it's back onto the desk that Sebastian had been playing with, "last week she called Marshall into her office and she had that same look on her face for whenever she calls you in there. I don't know what she said or did to him, but when he came out, his face was so red and he looked like he was almost going to cry."

Sebastian laughed at the visual image. Marshall's strange behavior the previous afternoon suddenly made sense. He kept freaking out if anyone touched him; the guy ended up hiding in the file room for the rest of the day, effectively pissing off one of the partners who was looking for him. Clearly, Jessica had welcomed his fellow associate to the firm.

"That explains a lot, actually," Sebastian said towards the tail end of his laughter. His laughter picked its momentum back up when Annie muttered and shook her head in a reluctant smile that she seemed to not want anyone to see.

"You're horrible, Sebastian. That poor guy looked like he didn't know what to do with himself. I don't know how you put up with it. I don't think I could take that if I had a boss who treated me how she treats you."

"Not a big deal," he answered, frowning slightly when she pulled the chain of paperclips that he had been making out of his hands before continuing, "I've been cursed with good looks all my life. She's not the first person who's been driven crazy by my innate sex appeal. It's not her fault that she can't control her hormones around me. I've been known to drive women into madness just by being in their vicinity. There was actually a time where this one professor of mine said they'd give me an A if I played wit—"

"Sebastian…" Annie said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at him, her frown clearly displaying her disapproval.

"It's just so hard being pretty. People don't understand the pressure and responsibilities that come with it. I mean…people have asked me to model _products _for them…"

"Don't you think you're being a bit drama—"

"Women have gotten pregnant just by catching one of my winks!"

"Okay," Annie said with the best stern face she could muster, "now you're just being silly."

"The hyperbole was for effect," Sebastian explained as he reached for her tape dispenser before pulling his hand back in shock, and slight pain, after Annie slapped it away.

"If this is what you've matured into, I'm scared to think how you were back in high school," Annie teased with a bright smile. She immediately noticed the way that Sebastian's face lit up and a Cheshire grin spread across his lips.

"Oh, the stories I could tell you..."

— **Glee —**

Blaine heaved a sigh of relief as the door in front of him swung open to reveal his brother. The two warm pizza boxes he'd been balancing precariously on top of his briefcase while he searched his pockets for keys were swiftly removed from his keeping. He winced as he surveyed his lounge area. There were crumpled up potato chip bags, discarded Coke cans, bare packages of cookies, an empty Tupperware that had held the previous night's dinner, and...was that a half-eaten apple? That had to have been Sam.

"You seriously couldn't have been here for more than two hours, Cooper. How in the world did you manage to make my apartment look like a Ke$ha music video?"

Sometimes, Blaine didn't understand how he and the other man had come from the same gene set, they were complete opposites: Cooper was messy where he was a neat freak; Cooper was laid back and prone to acting on a whim, where he was into structure and schedule. They were chalk and cheese. Night and day. And a whole other slew of other binary oppositions.

"You're overreacting again, Mom," Cooper waved him off dismissively, dropping down onto the couch, pizza boxes still in hand. "I'll clean it up later."

Blaine tensed at his brother's nickname for him, refusing to let the term get to him, and instead put his briefcase down by the door and set the mail neatly on the side table with his keys. He turned to look at his brother.

"I don't think so," he replied, walking the three steps that separated the door and the couch and plucked the boxes out of his brother's grasp, "Clean first. Pizza after."

Cooper stared at him, aghast: "That was never part of the deal, B," he argued, furiously snatching at his promised prize.

"Clean up first," Blaine reiterated, stepping out of reach, "And you'll get the food afterwards."

"I'm not one of your students, Blaine," Cooper complained, despite reaching for the assorted crap he'd tossed onto the floor earlier, "You don't get to boss me around and ultimatum me!"

Blaine snorted at his brother's whining and made his way towards the kitchen area, putting the pizzas on the table and grabbing some plates, placemats and a couple of sodas.

"First, you used that word wrong…and secondly, you know that's not what teachers actually do, right?" He asked, snagging a stack of napkins as a second thought and placing them down beside the cardboard boxes.

"It's how I remember high school," the older man shot back as he stomped exaggeratedly past his brother to deposit the efforts of his cleanup into the trash. One would think Blaine had asked him to cut off his left nut or something.

"Really? Because I seem to remember your high school years as you climbing out your bedroom window every weekend to go see your Girlfriend of the Week, and me covering for you with Mom and Dad," Blaine responded with a knowing smirk.

"Oh yeah," Cooper responded, a smile on his face as his mind seemed to be reliving a distant memory, "I forgot about that…those were good times…"

"Yeah, well you sure seemed t—_Uh uh uh_!" he leaned over and held the pizza lid down when Cooper moved in for the kill, "You're not touching the food until you've washed your hands."

Blue eyes widened before narrowing. "You've gotta be shitting me!?"

Blaine arched an eyebrow but remained silent. Honestly! Cooper was more effort than all his classes combined. It was like he was perpetually stuck at five years old. He loved his brother, but Blaine pitied the poor woman who ended up with Cooper.

"Fine," Cooper rolled his eyes and moved back into the kitchen, washing his hands in the sink with a sigh.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're an anal retentive douche?" He asked, wiping his hands on a tea towel.

"You. Kinda often, actually."

Cooper came back to the table and made a show of presenting his hands for inspection. He even offered Blaine his hands to smell, proving that he in fact used soap.

"There's probably a reason for that," he replied, sitting down and _finally _reaching for his prize. He grinned at the cheesy piece of perfection in front of him. He lifted up a slice and groaned slightly as the cheese stretched and oozed.

"Oh, baby, I've been thinking about you all afternoon…"

"I hear that a lot, you know," Sam teased as he entered the room, having arrived home while the two brothers were bickering. He frowned at the boxes on the table. He set down the various bags of equipment that he had been carrying and turned towards Blaine, an accusatory look on his face.

"Pizza, B? Why don't you just slap the fat on your stomach right now? What, is this your way of telling me that you wanna get up at the ass-crack of dawn for an epic workout? I have no problem riding your ass hard, you know."

Cooper almost choked on his slice of pizza. He was quickly chewing his bite. Anticipation and laughter filled his eyes as he hurriedly tried to swallow so that he could share the multitude of homoerotic-themed jokes that had popped into his head. He finally swallowed his food and opened his mouth.

"Cooper. Don't."

Blaine watched with a small amount of satisfaction as a crestfallen look appeared across his older brother's face and he closed his mouth in dejection. Alluding to the non-existent sexual relationship between Sam and his younger brother was one of Cooper's favorite pastimes.

Blaine turned back to Sam and shrugged.

"And there's a thin crust vegetarian..." he offered lamely, knowing that Sam wouldn't be too appeased by the logic. _Pizza was pizza was pizza_, according to Sam: empty calories, grease, and a direct insult to his rock hard abs ("But it tastes so good!" Cooper always defended).

The blond shook his head but sat down at the table, snagging a single slice of the pie that had been purchased specifically with him in mind. He eyed it a bit, almost as if he expected it to grow a mouth and begin spouting racial slurs or offbeat political rants, before finally relenting and dabbing the top of the slice with a paper napkin to soak up any excess grease.

"You _know _this body takes work and dedication to look this good, and you know I need to look this good for my job," he lectured, pausing to take a bite, "and it's kind of unfair that you...hey, this is good! Is it from Luigi's?"

Blaine laughed, reaching for a slice of the same pizza, "Nope. Trying out the new place around the corner."

"Well, I guess it's better than a bucket of fried chicken," Sam mused, slowly savouring his single slice while Cooper demolished two slices and eyed off a third, "but we're still jogging an extra mile in the morning, B."

The teacher sighed and nodded, "I figured."

"Wow, little brother. You're so whipped. You've got all the drawbacks of a nagging wife without the perks." Cooper chuckled and wiped at his mouth with a napkin. "Congratulations. The only question is: who's the little spoon? My money's on Blaine!"

Rolling his eyes, Blaine flipped him off. "You're just jealous because I have a live-in personal trainer and you don't."

"You forget that Sammy Boy here is totally my bro now. I don't need to live with the guy to score free sessions. Right, Sam?"

"I never said 'free', Dude," Sam corrected, knowing his protest would be largely ignored.

"Oh! Speaking of...I got my cards back from the printer. Check 'em out!" He left the table to rummage through his backpack and pulled out a small carton, tossing it across the room to Cooper, who caught it deftly. Cooper opened the box and pulled a business card from the stack within, giving it a quick once over.

"Awesome!" He enthused, passing the card to Blaine.

For his part, the younger Anderson snorted at the first glance. The card had a tacky picture of a shirtless Sam standing, arms folded, in the middle of a gym, and bore the bold title 'Sam Evans - Trainer To The Stars' above his contact details. The reverse side had a short blurb encouraging potential clients to take the first step to a 'better them' and to book a session immediately.

"Trainer to the stars?" He questioned, unable to help himself, "Sam, you know Cooper doesn't count, right?" He waited a beat, then added, "And neither does that guy who played a dead body on _Law and Order_ a decade ago."

"He was an extra on NCIS once, too!" Sam argued, while Cooper looked decidedly put out.

"What do you mean I don't count?"

"Whatever Dude! It's just a title to pull people in," Sam explained, ignoring Cooper's indignation.

"Yeah, but what are you going to do if someone asks you for the name of the 'stars' that you've trained, Sam?" Blaine argued.

"Hey! What do you mean I don't count!?"

"Eh, I'll just say I used to work with someone. It's not like they can call up Brad Pitt's manager and ask him if its true."

"Brad Pitt? Really Sam? Of all the celebrities that you could choose, you really think Brad Pitt is up there in the 'believable' category?" Blaine asked, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

"God, why do you always have to be a buzz kill Blaine?" Sam said, leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms, and frowning in the opposite direction of his roommate.

"Guys! Seriously!"

"Sam," Blaine said as he reached forward and gently touched Sam's arms, smiling, "I'm sorry. You're right. It's a great card. You look awesome on the front and it's going to get you loads of new clients."

"Hello? Can you two even hear me?!"

"You really think so?" Sam asked, turning his head and looking at his roommate like a hesitant child, afraid of the hope welling up in his chest.

"I do," Blaine said with a sincere smile. Despite the corniness of the business card, Blaine knew that he could never not support his best friend—they were Blam, after all.

"This isn't funny anymore, you guys!" Cooper yelled, his levels of frustration quickly reaching their breaking point.

"Hey Blaine, did you grab any tampons for Cooper on your way home? I think it's time for one," Sam teased as he winked at the younger Anderson.

"Hey!"

"And to think, people say you're dramatic! How outrageous!" Blaine said, mockingly putting his hand to his chest in shock.

"I'm not dramatic," Cooper pouted, shoving a seventh slice of pizza into his mouth.

"And I rest my case." Blaine finished with an illustrative wave, reaching for his food again after taking an exaggerated bow.

Cooper and Sam shared a look. Blaine knew what to expect and they didn't disappoint.

"You're still doing that?" Cooper asked, not bothering to hide his grin, quickly forgetting his annoyance. It was a grin that Blaine was used to, a grin that said "Little brother, you're stupid and it amuses me." It was the same look that Cooper had whenever Blaine suggested they clean Cooper's apartment ("That's why Mom and Dad get me a maid, Little Brother.").

Sam nodded, wearing a similar expression. "Yep," he answered in lieu of allowing his friend to reply, "That and the 'Exhibit A' stuff when he wants to make a point. Sometimes I wait for the _Law & Order_ sound to play after he says it."

Cooper laughed and leant across the table to ruffle Blaine's hair. "Still got it bad for the lawyer, hey, Little Bro?"

Blaine batted the offending hand away and rolled his eyes. "Uh, no. We broke up. That was forever ago! It was a mutual decision, remember?"

"Whatever you say, B," Sam said, still wearing that smirk that implied he knew better, "We believe you."

"So, you know, court closed, or whatever," Sam's lips twitched as he dodged an olive that Blaine had thrown at him.

"Whatever. I don't even say that…and it's court adjourned," he added the last bit, cringing slightly when he realized that he had just opened himself up for a barrage of jokes. He closed his eyes when he saw the two other men dissolve into fits of laughter, though he opened them soon after, happy that he was able to offer them a source of amusement after harping on them so much during the course of their conversations.

"Blainey and Lawyer-Dude sitting in a tree, K-I-S-I-N-G—wait…" Cooper stopped his singing and looked around the room in confusion, as if he might find his mistake somewhere hidden in the couch cushions.

"You're a child." Blaine sighed, laughing when Cooper just nodded and agreed.

"You wouldn't like me if I acted all old and boring like you, Blainers. Admit it, you need _me_ to keep _you_ young. You love it."

The younger of the Anderson siblings shook his head. "I don't think so, Coop."

"Say it. You love me."

"Let me think about that for..._no_."

"You _loooooove_ me."

Blaine clamped his lips shut, trying unsuccessfully to mask his amusement.

"Say it."

"No."

"Say it."

"No!"

"Say it, Whore!"

"You can't make me!"

Sam made a grab for Blaine's face, pinching his cheeks between his index finger and thumb and squeezing to make Blaine's lips move. Blaine simply sat in confusion and amusement, watching his roommate.

"_I love my big brother. He's the best big brother ever….but he's not as cool as my awesome roommate_" he said in a terrible impression of his best friend, sounding like an old British woman, while Cooper nodded approvingly before registering the last part of Sam's dialogue and objecting. Blaine wrenched his face free and glared at the blond.

"You think _that's_ what I sound like?" He huffed, arms folded against his chest as Sam merely nodded in proud reply.

"That was a horrible impression! You sounded like a character from _Downton Abbey_,_" _Blaine's annoyance was barely kept out of his words.

"Take that back!" Sam demanded, brandishing his index finger like a weapon, "Take it back or I'll make you run _two_ extra miles tomorrow!"

Blaine's face fell: Sam didn't make idle threats when it came to training. He schooled his expression into the closest thing he could get to genuinely apologetic.

"Okay, okay," he said, hands up in surrender as he looked at Sam, "I take it back. Your impressions are the same standard as they've always been."

Sam seemed appeased by that and nodded. "Thank you."

Cooper, on the other hand, was onto his brother's tricks, "Dude, he didn't actually say your impressions were goo—"

He frowned as he had to chew on the slice of double pepperoni pizza that Blaine had shoved into his mouth. He was clearly torn between being annoyed at being silent and begrudgingly grateful at being given another slice of pizza.

"So," Blaine cut him off, acting as though he hadn't just lunged across the table to stuff a slice of greasy pie in his brother's mouth, while smiling at Sam, "the business cards look really great."

Sam beamed, successfully distracted and dropping the question of why Blaine had shoved a slice of pizza in Cooper's mouth, prompting Cooper to remember their previous discussion on the topic.

"Yeah," he interrupted, rocking his chair back onto its rear legs, much to Blaine's annoyance ("That's how chairs get broken, Cooper!").

"Wait, so _why_ don't I count as a star?!"

— **Glee —**

"I really hate children," Elizabeth muttered as she glared at a crying child two tables over from them.

"The levels of your maternal instincts are overwhelming sometimes," Sebastian returned with a smile, before taking a bite into his pasta.

Sebastian casually looked over his shoulder to view a stressed-out looking mother desperately trying to appease the baby as it wailed while lifting its hands to the heavens, as though it were blaming God for its wet diaper, thirst, or whatever other reason it could have for screaming in the middle of a public setting. He turned back, shaking his head, enjoying the view of the annoyance on his friend's face.

Elizabeth was someone who Sebastian had met in the middle of his first year at law school. Their initial meeting was when they were paired together for a research assignment. Having been used to people generally bending to his will, Sebastian was understandably frustrated when Elizabeth refused to simply do as she was told. In the end, the two almost failed their assignment due to their constant bickering and childish displays of stubbornness. For the first two months of knowing each other, they were constantly at each other's throats, heckling any comment made and making their opinions known to everyone around. The culmination of their rivalry lead to a foolish competition on who could bed some poor man who was in a bar with them. In the end, neither won, the man went home with his wife, and left the two laughing about the ridiculous levels that they had taken things to. From that day forward, the two became inseparable friends. It quickly became clear to them the reason for the constant butting of heads: they were the exact same person. Stubborn, egotistical, ruthless, charming, center-of-attention, intelligent, born leaders, and entitled were only a few words or phrases that could perfectly describe them.

"So how's the neighborhood rapist treating you?" Elizabeth asked with an amused smile, shifting her salad around with her fork.

"I think she might be having an off day. I only felt slightly uncomfortable in her office. She didn't even touch me once."

"Maybe you've peaked already and now you're just slowly getting less and less attractive until you…well…until you look like that guy," Elizabeth jerked her head to the side, pointing to an overweight man eating a plate of ribs by himself at a nearby table.

Sebastian twisted his features into a look of disgust, his elitist mentality coming out to play, before turning to look back at his friend who was wearing a Cheshire grin. She really got a kick out of making these types of accusation. Sebastian felt the breeze blow across his cheeks and nose as he continued to pinch his features together and stare back disapprovingly.

"No amount of ugliness will ever make me wear pleated khakis," Sebastian muttered before adding, "and who eats ribs by themselves? Seriously…"

"So back to me," Elizabeth said, setting down her fork and gently folding her hands, "I think Eric's gonna propose soon."

Sebastian fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Aw, thanks Bas for that expression of support. Your friendship really _does_ mean so much to me. Maybe after we finish lunch, you can come over to my house and pour bleach all over my furniture. It'd fit in perfectly with that look on your face right now."

"What look? There was no look, unless you count me looking back at you because you're talking to me. If you'd like, I could just get up and leave in the middle of your next sentence…and you know I hate that name," he returned, finally letting his eyes roll, thankful for the excuse.

"Oh shut up," she snapped, sounding slightly annoyed, "your lack of an expression always means you're trying to not make a face or roll your eyes." She adopted a look of slight disgust before adding, "And you're being awfully defensive right now. What's up with that?"

"I'm not being defensive, Ass, I'm just not understanding why you have to harp on my nuts like this because I didn't flip the table over in joy for your 'possible' news. It's not like he even actually proposed, you just said he might," Sebastian said, cringing inwardly at the type of voice that was delivering his words. He really needed to get better at hiding his annoyance, but Elizabeth always made it so hard with her annoying personality; _his_ personality, the one they shared.

"I'm sorry Bas, I didn't know you were being so sensitive today…"

"I'm not being se—"

"I think I have an extra tampon in my purse? You should've just told me you needed one," Elizabeth said with an all-too-straight face.

"You know," Sebastian deadpanned, "I could hire friends nicer than you."

"Oh, Sweetie…" she returned saccharinely, "then you'd be friends with the help. That's one step away from clipping coupons and doing your own laundry."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're incredible?" Sebastian asked while laughing slightly and shaking his head. Elizabeth was the only person in his life that could push him to the brink of wanting to high-five her in the face with a chair one second and then make him laugh in the next. It was a talent, and one that he was not without.

"Yeah, your mom did," she said before adding with a smirk, "last night."

"I'm still not convinced that you don't have a dick in there somewhere," Sebastian said while gesturing to her pants.

"There's nothing down there that you haven't already seen," Elizabeth answered with a shrug.

"I think maybe that's how I'll start my Man of Honor toast at your wedding."

It was as if a switch had been flipped. Elizabeth locked eyes with Sebastian with a snarlingly serious look on her face. For a second, Sebastian was a little scared that she might take her fork and stab it through the back of his hand, securing it to the table.

"I swear Sebastian, if you ever tell Eric about law school…you know he's only okay with us because you're gay…"

"I'd be careful if I were you," Sebastian said while leaning in, wearing a patronizing smile, "your estrogen is showing."

Elizabeth merely growled as Sebastian reassured her that she was being overly sensitive, taking great joy in saying the word sensitive, and enjoying the look on her face. The two had spent many a night in each other's bed during their time at law school. Whereas many people might have confused sex in a friendship to mean more than it did, he and Elizabeth held the same detachment for the act: it was just sex. Of course, the arrangement they had lead to questions from other people about Sebastian's sexuality to which he would simply shrug and say that he wasn't one to turn down an orgasm. The nightly visits died down once Elizabeth met Eric, dying completely when their relationship became something serious.

While Sebastian wasn't _jealous_ of Eric—you couldn't pay him to date Elizabeth, not that he needed money—he didn't like that his friend was slowly being taken away from him. It was difficult having to watch Elizabeth become more and more enamored with the guy. Sebastian had almost vomited his sushi when Elizabeth told him how they had said "I love you" to one another. It was as if his friend was slowly morphing into a Kate Hudson movie. He was already playing the role of the gay best friend. They just needed some ridiculous scenario injected into the mix and they'd be an actual cliché. No matter how much he disliked what was happening, Sebastian would never go so far as to actively try and sabotage her relationship. That would only lead to an angry or crying Elizabeth, and that wasn't exactly anyone's first choice.

So that left him in his position, begrudgingly going along with whatever ridiculous monogamous plans that she came up with. At least the very least, it would provide him with an endless arsenal of jokes to make. Speaking of...

"I'm serious, though, Beth," he said, lips quirking as her eye twitched at the nickname, "What has put this inane idea of Eric proposing into your head? You almost sound like one of those lovesick girls who go home and draw their boyfriend's name in their diary with little hearts. Do I need to check your date book for Mrs. Eric Boringface?...Do you want to love him forever and ever?"

He twirled his pasta with his fork almost primly, before taking another bite and chewing thoughtfully. He enjoyed the look on her face as he spoke. It was a bit sadistic, the fact that he was enjoying making his best friend uncomfortable, but it was also a perfect example of how dysfunctional their relationship really was. He remembered the night they celebrated their graduation from their law program and the way that Elizabeth had drunkenly pointed to the scar on her elbow and likened it to their friendship ("Ugly, but permanent."). He caught her glaring at the wailing infant again and smothered a grin.

"You're not knocked up are you? It would explain the extra attention you're giving that little banshee..."

When she'd first started dating the guy, Sebastian had thought he was like all the others: A quick fling—scratching an itch, that sort of thing—but then the 'L' word had been bandied about and Elizabeth had become attached to the plain, boring little man. Eric's appeal was beyond his comprehension. Now she was talking about marriage? That was long-haul commitment. He was beginning to toy around with the idea of having her committed.

Elizabeth glowered and reached for a bread roll, throwing it at his head, which he ducked with ease, ignoring the stares from the other patrons.

"Okay, not pregnant then," he dismissed, "so what else? Are you blackmailing the poor guy? I mean, I honestly can't see what there is to gain from marrying a chiropractor, he's not even a real doctor. I'd have at least gone for someone with an M.D…"

"Just forget I said anything," she huffed, stabbing a lettuce leaf with more force than necessary, sighing and growing angrier after seeing Sebastian non-committally shrug his shoulders, "If you can't take this seriou—"

"You're getting old and boring." He returned frankly, finishing the last of his meal, laughing when she protested the comment Where some friends might shy away from brutal honesty, Sebastian was hardly one to cared too deeply about the feelings of others.

"No, but for real though," Sebastian smirked, gesturing to Elizabeth with his chin and smiling at her display of hormones, wondering if she had those tampons in her purse for a reason "about those tampons…"

He ducked when she threw her napkin at him.

— **Glee —**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES (TheFauxMe): ****So, that's chapter one. Writing this was just a blast and a half. I can't express just how much my co-author makes me laugh, or how much I look forward to reading his writing or his feedback on mine. If you enjoyed this—or even if you didn't—I know that we would both really appreciate hearing about it. You're brilliant for reading, especially for reading our notes on top of the story because I get that it's not always as fun. (Pfft, what am I saying? He and I are incredibly entertaining!) I know I can't wait for more, can you? **

**AUTHOR'S NOTES (gotta B writin): So I'd just like to take the time to say thank you to all who are reading this! You guys are awesome and I owe you all a high five (TWO high fives if you leave a review!). Putting this together, even thus far, has been a lot of fun and I couldn't think of a more perfect writing partner to do my first co-authored story. This one is going to be a lot more light and funny than my previous story, but I hope you guys enjoy it. Our goal is to make this a romantic comedy, emphasis on the comedy. Think of it like a Katherine Heigl movie, if Katherine Heigl was gay…and a dude…and it had quality writing.**

**Please take a minute and just leave us your thoughts in a review. Blah blah blah [insert speech about how awesome reviews are]…because you know we love us some review lovin'. And my own personal request: let us know what your favorite moments were. I know which made me actually LOL, and I'm (we're) curious to know if you had any! Thanks in advance and we'll see you soon, hopefully! **

**NEXT CHAPTER: "Sebastian, why is there a picture of your **_**junk**_** staring back at me!?" **


	2. The Young and the Tactless

**AUTHOR'S NOTES (gotta B writin): And here is the highly anticipated (at least in my own mind) chapter two! I'd just like to throw out an apology in advance. I know in the preview at the end of the first chapter it teased that Sebastian's nudeness would be in this chapter, but that will actually take place in Chapter Three. Chapters Two and Three were originally one until I chopped them in half. Again, my apologies! Without further ado!**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES (TheFauxMe): Woohoo! Chapter two is up! Thank you for all the feedback from the last chapter. I was particularly pleased to see that most people agreed with me when it came to their favourite parts/lines. Gotta B is many levels of awesome and I have become addicted to writing with him. No joke, I may need to head to Betty Ford for this. Anyhow, go read and enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.**

**DISCLAIMER: We own Elizabeth and Annie…and Jessica, but nothing else. And I (gBw) personally own a few cans of SpaghettiO's. Win!**

— **Glee —**

**A Matchless Match**

**Chapter Two: The Young and the Tactless**

Sam's head snapped up from his bowl of cereal when he heard a loud commotion coming from around the corner. His eyes quickly glanced at the clock on the microwave and smiled. It was 4:28.

Blaine was home.

He picked up the remote control and paused the cartoon that he was watching. He jumped out of his chair and took about two steps before thinking better and, turning to quickly shove another bite of cereal into his mouth, dripping a rather large amount of milk on his chin and the table beside his bowl.

He panicked slightly and quickly tried to wipe the liquid from the tabletop with his right sleeve, momentarily annoyed that he didn't grab a napkin like Blaine always pestered him to do. He glanced quickly over his shoulder when he heard his roommate's loud approach. The footsteps echoed off the walls of the apartment as Sam quickly checked the table, wincing slightly when he could still see where the milk had created a wet spot on the tablecloth.

_Shit! He's gonna flip out again!_

It had only been two weeks prior that the two had gotten into one of their arguments. That time, like usual, it was over Sam's sloppiness and his refusal to use placemats ("I'm not some kid, B! I don't need one!"…"Says the man who dripped tomato sauce on our tablecloth from his SpaghettiO's. SPAGHETTIO's, Sam!"). Blaine had replaced seven tablecloths in total thus far that year and had forbidden Sam to even sit at the small table unless there was a placemat involved. The tall blond had found the forbiddance extremely patronizing, however warranted it may have been. There may have been accusations of Blaine being a Nazi dictator, but Sam would never confirm such racist insults.

"You have no idea how happy I am to be home. There was this old man on the bus who I'm semi-positive was on the news last night for kidna—"

Blaine's mouth froze in its position when he saw the bowl sitting on the table without a placemat. His eyes snapped over to his friend and narrowed slightly.

"Relax, B. I was careful. The tablecloth's fine, okay? I was careful," his hands were held out, away from his chest, palms facing the dark haired teacher. The smile on Sam's face seemed to both soothe Blaine's annoyance, yet spark his skepticism.

Sam prayed on the inside that his lie would be accepted. It was a regularity in his friendship with Blaine to always be proven wrong on different subjects. Many would have found that fact to be extremely annoying and a strong arguing point for Sam to find a new roommate, but the truth was that while Blaine _did_ tend to be right about things, he never made Sam feel stupid about being wrong. But just once, Sam wished things would go his way.

There had been many moments in McKinley—hell, during his entire childhood and adolescence—where Sam had been made to feel stupid, or at least less than what he should be. That feeling of inferiority had been an Achilles' heel for Sam, the kryptonite to his otherwise confident personality. During his friendship with Blaine, the shorter boy always seemed to be Sam's champion and a fierce defender. So despite any arguments that Sam might have lost to Blaine (possibly all of them, but who was keeping score?), the blond still never felt stupid at any point. He knew Blaine would never try to make him feel that way.

"Okay," the word was dragged out of his mouth slowly, his undecided opinion evident in his tone.

Sam mentally pumped his fist in victory.

"So how was work?" Sam asked, trying to quickly change the topic as he lead Blaine away from the table that his body was blocking to give the wet spot a chance to dry before Blaine got a chance to see it.

"Long," Blaine breathed out, his fatigue evident, "long but good. I have a nice stack of papers to grade in my bag. Feel free to share in my joy and join me in going through them."

"Nah," Sam said, perching himself on the sofa as Blaine collapsed into one of the cushioned chairs and fighting the urge to mumble a that's-what-she-said in response to Blaine's "long but good" description, "I think I'll just stick to letting you do it and get the Highlights Reel when you're done."

The Highlights Reel was what Sam called the few papers that Blaine would put aside for Sam to read. One of the blond's favorite things to do was to read the idiotic papers that Blaine's students wrote. His favorite was still a toss-up between sophomore's response to Blaine's test question about Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_ ("They were 14 when they did it. Juliet was a ho.") and a junior's response to a question in Blaine's Music History class ("Classical music sucks. I like Kanye West.").

"How kind of you," Blaine responded, shaking his head in amusement.

Sam frowned slightly as he let his head fall back into the back of the sofa and looked at his friend.

"So you going out tonight, B?" he asked, already anticipating the "no" that Blaine would respond with.

He _always _stayed home. Sam honestly worried about his friend. The guy didn't have much of a social life. Most of his interactions were with his high school students and the 40 year old teachers that he worked with at his school. What kind of life was that for a 26 year old? Sam constantly bugged Blaine about getting out and meeting someone. Ever since his breakup with that douche of an ex, Blaine had stopped going out and instead chose to stay in their apartment and zone out to recorded reality shows.

"Actually, I amleaving the apartment tonight," he responded, emphasizing his verb and citing it as a defense against Sam's accusation in his seemingly innocent question.

Sam's head swiveled as his eyes grew to a ridiculously large size. Had he heard right? Was that angry homeless woman he passed by on the street right when she yelled that the world was coming to an end? Holy shit…maybe she was right about the aliens too…

"I'm sorry Dude, I think my ears are broke or something, 'cause, I swear, it sounded like you just said that you're going out tonight," Sam said, fighting to hold in the grin that was doing its best to force its way out.

"You've been on my case so much about going out, that I—"

"You're gonna let me take you to _Man Hole_!?" Sam yelled, his eyes growing even wider in excitement. He had been obsessed with going to the gay club ever since the two had heard a group of guys talking about it in the booth behind them at a diner. Blaine had absolutely refused to go to the club, disappointing Sam like a child who had just found out about Santa Claus' nonexistence. Blaine had been unable to understand the levels of amusement his roommate received from the club's name. It was just a silly, crude name, nothing to get excited about.

"No, I'm going to fitness center downstairs and then hopping in the shower and into some sweats after I order some Chinese and clean out our DVR, one show at a time," he said with a put-on air of nobility.

"You would have gotten more cool points if you told me you were going to a bible study and then bingo night, Bro. You can't just stay in on a Friday night, Blaine. That's lame!" Sam said as if Blaine were a child, though he was somewhat happy to hear that if his roommate was going to waste a Friday night, it would at least be partly spent working out.

"It's not lame," Blaine defended, crossing his arms, "I just don't feel li—"

"Lame," Sam said in a louder voice, dragging out the sounds in the word.

"I don't see how staying home one weekend suddenly ma—"

"One weekend?" Sam said through his laughter, "Dude, you've been attached to the couch for months ever since Dan—"

"David," Blaine corrected.

"Douche Face," Sam said without missing a beat, making a point to roll his eyes. It was never a secret that Sam disliked Blaine's ex. It got to the point where Sam would purposely call David, the lawyer, the wrong name, much to Blaine's annoyance and embarrassment.

"And it's been more than one weekend, B. you're like one of those helmet guys!"

"Helmet? What do you..." Blaine stopped speaking, nodding his head in understanding, "I think you meant 'hermit,' Sam."

"Whatever, the point is you're being lame, Dude."

"Sam, I'm no—"

"Lame," he interrupted.

"I'm not la—"

"Lame!"

"Stop sa—"

"Lame! Lame! Lame!"

"I'm going to throw something at you," Blaine growled in annoyance.

"You need to not be lame! You're parents should have called you Lame when you were born. No," he said, his eyes lighting up "they should've called you Blame, because that's what you are!"

"I blame other people?" Blaine asked, his amusement for Sam's sloppy pun evident.

"No, you're lame! I put 'lame' and 'Blaine' together and they kinda sound alike and so I thought it'd wor—you know what? Whatever! You're being lame and you're lame. Lame! Lame! Lame! Leave me alone."

Sam's frown grew more severe as Blaine's laughter continued, filling the apartment with an echo of amusement. He folded his arms and huffed, biceps flexed in annoyance, recalling the original point of the discussion. The picture he created was a juxtaposition of childish tantrums and manly intimidation.

"Since when is it cool to go to the gym on a Friday night when you can go to a place called _Man Hole_!? I mean…it's called _Man Hole, Dude_! We might see naked little midget dudes or something!"

"What kind of gay clubs have you been too?" Blaine asked, slightly taken aback by his friend's overactive imagination.

"The place is called _Man Hole_, Dude! That's not normal gay. That's like a tie-you-up-and-put-a-diaper-on-you-and-make-you-ca ll-me-Daddy sort of freaky gay. It'd be like going into a McDonald's and it being all…"

Sam's excitement had driven him to speak much too soon and without any semblance of a destination for his comparison. He awkwardly let his words trail off when he realized he didn't know how to finish his sentence. The silence sat in between the two for an unspecified amount of time. He frowned as he played with the pillow in his hands.

_Well…this is awkward._

"Whatever. It's called _Man Hole_ and that's an awesome name," he pressed on childishly, mumbling his defense. It was almost as if the subtext of his statement was a classic "I know you are, but what am I?" Blaine almost expected Sam to uninvited him, Blaine, from his, Sam's, birthday party.

"Sam, that's hardly a name that—"

"I'm naming my first kid Man Hole!"

A sigh proceeded Blaine's words before he continued, "You're not going to actually name your ki—"

"Man Hole Evans. He's gonna be bad ass!" Sam delivered defiantly.

"He sounds like he's an SVU storyline waiting to happen," Blaine said as he rolled his eyes and picked up his bag that was lying next to him. He stood up and started towards his bedroom.

Sam was busy caught in his thoughts, still baffled as to how Blaine didn't think that Man Hole as an awesome name for a gay bar. Sam wished "normal bars" could have names like that. He was then distracted by the different possibilities of sexual puns that were flying through his head. He was in the middle of naming the Mexican Restaurant that he would one day own (_The Dirty Sanchez Cantina_) when he heard his name being yelled. He snapped out of his thoughts and spied an annoyed looking Blaine standing next to their table and the site of his spilt milk.

_Shit._

— **Glee —**

Sebastian had just sprawled out in his bed when his ears were assaulted by this month's personalized ring tone for Elizabeth: Justin Bieber's _Baby. _He cursed their long-running attempts to humiliate one another and reached through the darkness towards the shrill, obnoxious sound.

The tradition harkened all the way back to their junior year of law school: After being tricked into sleeping with a homeless looking excuse of a human being by Elizabeth, Sebastian had taken his revenge by recording himself making sex noises, setting it as his ringtone on Elizabeth's phone, and then calling her in the middle of her Business Law class. After rushing to turn off her phone and apologizing profusely to her professor, Elizabeth later returned the favor by setting her own personal ringtone on Sebastian's phone (Sebastian scrambled to silence his phone when Elizabeth's recorded voice started shouting "Sebastian Smythe, how dare you say Professor Adler looks like a coked-out, manlier-looking Shrek! She is a beautiful woman and I don't appreciate you making such rude and sexist comm—" the rest had thankfully gone unheard due to Sebastian finding his phone by that point). Since they were both almost kicked out of their programs thanks to the other, the two had agreed to stay away from voice-recorded ringtones and instead switched to embarrassing songs. After that, it just became a running joke and tradition to sneak an embarrassing song on the other's phone.

"I _will _get you for this one," he told her by way of greeting, glowering at shadows playing on his bedroom wall when she only laughed.

"But it's a classic," she argued back, pleased that she'd won this round, "Don't you dare change it. Tell me I caught you out with your pants down: I need to know on a scale of one to Lohan just how tragically embarrassed you are."

He rolled his eyes, smirking. "Actually, I'm at home. Alone. So your nefarious scheme has been foiled," he taunted with his usual air of superiority before frowning, "and in what way is that noise a classic? That Canadian lesbian never had enough talent to have a 'classic,' as you so insanely put it."

"Leave Justin alone!" Elizabeth dramatically shouted, smiling as she pictured Sebastian's amused eye roll, "She's a lovely young lady. You shouldn't be so mean."

Sebastian's mumbled response earned another sarcastic remark from his best friend.

"I'm so glad you've interrupting my night at home with this witty banter. You never really know what you're missing, I suppose, until it pops up—annoying, tasteless, and low-brow—on your lap."

Elizabeth made a dismissive sound and he could imagine her waving him off.

"At home?" She echoed, sighing. "Alone? On a Friday night? Sebastian...this is actually what I want to talk to you about. You're starting to sound kind of pathetic, and I don't mean that in a you-should-really-get-out-more kind of way. I mean it more like a I'm-worried-you-might-buy-a-Snuggie sort of way."

"I have to go in to the office tomorrow," he justified with a huff, more than a little insulted that his now boring, practically engaged friend was clearly about to lecture him on his social life, "I've learned it's best not to be hung over. Could you imagine what Jessica would be like to deal with if I were in any way inebriated? No thank you."

The predator would happily take advantage of his weakened state, he was sure of it. His mind immediately came up with seven different scenarios in which his morning could go, and each one of them ended up with her hands down his pants. It wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, but even Sebastian had limits, and sleeping with his boss was definitely something that he had no intention of doing. Just the idea made him shudder.

"I'll probably head out tomorrow night, so-"

"To what? Another club? Gay bar? For another random fling? Don't you think you're getting a little old for that? You, better than anyone, know I've been there. I wouldn't lie to you. Well," she hesitated, before adding "not about something serious. Why don't you think about how good things could be if you found someone like I have?"

Sebastian's frown deepened and he pulled the phone away to glare at it, despite the fact that it was just a voice call and she couldn't see him. He just about dropped it when—even without being put on speaker, he couldn't help his reaction—her voice sounded through the earpiece at a loud enough volume for him to hear even at a distance.

"Don't give me that look, Bas. I've only got your best interests at heart here."

There were times when Sebastian wondered whether or not Elizabeth had hidden cameras placed around his apartment. There was no way someone could know him _that_ well. He cautiously swept his eyes over the room before pulling the phone back to his head and answering.

"You? A heart?" He scoffed, "Spare me. You're clearly in denial about the rut you've found yourself in and are trying to make yourself feel better by projecting your dissatisfaction onto me...and don't call me that."

There was a pause before she sighed again, this time louder and more dramatic than before.

"Or you could be doing the same to me," she told him gently, the lack of snark annoying him more than her taunting ever could. "Don't you want to be happy, Sebastian? Don't you _want_ something real? Honestly, sometimes I think you'd just be happier with a humping post or something."

"I would never," Sebastian teased, "where's the fun in humping if there's no chase? I like a challenge. That was an incredibly blue-collar accusation to make."

"I'm overwhelmed by your witty comeback," Elizabeth deadpanned. "But seriously Sebastian, come on…don't you want a real connection?"

He bit back his initial reply that he _connected_ with other men frequently. He had actually just connected with a hot Peruvian model three days prior to their phone conversation.

"Who _are_ you?" he instead countered incredulously. "Are you drunk? _High_?...because I thought we stopped doing that? If you've been holding out on me and started up again without telling me, you should've at least let me in on th—"

"Don't be stupid," she laughed. "Of course not…but now that you mentio—no…no, I just wish you'd give an actual relationship a chance. Do you have any idea what you're missing out on? Sex on tap!. Companionship. Someone who _gets_ you."

Sebastian fought the urge to throw his phone across his room. Ever since Eric had dropped the God-forsaken "L" word, his best friend had started to drop hints that he should find himself someone to love as well. It had become a recurring theme for their conversations, despite all his attempts to subvert or avoid the topic, and the more he fought it, the more blatant Elizabeth's attempts to domesticate him became. It was as though she was chasing him with a proverbial pair of scissors, trying to castrate him. The worst part was, of course, that she seemed to genuinely believe she was helping him.

He yawned exaggeratedly.

"Nights curled up on the couch with Doctor Dull instead of finding some young, dumb, eager-to-please six pack to wile away a few hours with? You're forgetting that I get sex on tap already, Woman. Plenty of men _get_ me…well…actually, I usually _get_ them if you ca—"

"I will literally set you on fire if you finish your 'if you get catch my drift' line. I will come over and seriously pour gasoline all over your Chlamydia infested apartment and then enclose it in a ring of salt. You're losing your touch, Sebastian. That was practically pedestrian."

He ignored her in preference of making his point.

"I don't think _I'm_ the one missing out on anything, here," Sebastian twisted his lips into a wry smirk. "This is a plea for help, isn't it? Come on, E, come back to the dark side. We have more fun. We don't use the word 'commitment' or talk about weekends in Connecticut. We have porn!"

Elizabeth snorted and he silently applauded himself for yet another successful diversion.

"Honestly, though, Sebastian, I-"

"I don't think you heard me…PORN!"

"As amusing as your childish games may be, that doesn't cha—"

Or maybe not. She was really trying it on tonight.

"_Shh_!" Sebastian interrupted. "Did you hear that?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and he could imagine that his friend was trying to deduce whether he was toying with her or not. Eventually, and probably against her better judgement, she gave in.

"What?"

"That sound."

"What sound?"

Sebastian squinted into the darkness of his room, trying to get the tone of voice just right. He relished moments where he would be able to mock his friend. It wasn't very often that she left herself open for being made fun of. He could just imagine the weeks worth of material that their conversation would give him.

"It sounded like...your youth…and every orgasm you'll never have again…running away together to find new homes. And I think…yes…those are the sounds of baggy sweat pants and 'Eh, not tonight Honey' coming to take their place."

"_Ugh_," Elizabeth sounded out her frustration, much to his amusement. "Ever heard of _The Boy Who Cried Wolf, _Bas?"

"Can't say I have," he picked an imaginary piece of lint from his sheets, a little dismayed that she couldn't actually see his bemused expression, "Is that another one of those tacky bestiality-masquerading-as-romance novels? Like _Twilight_?"

He could hear the smile she was trying to fight against in her voice when she replied, "You're such a little bitch."

"Love you too, Lizzy."

— **Glee —**

"I'm sorry...I thought I just heard you say that you signed me up on an online dating site," Blaine huffed into his phone, narrowing his eyes despite the fact that his best friend (or should that be _former _best friend?) couldn't see him.

"And, you know, I _can't_ have heard right because you'd know that I would kill you if you did that, Sam."

There was a lighthearted laugh at that, crackling down the line, infuriating Blaine further, "B, _relax_, Man. This is a good thing. You and Dick—"

"David," Blaine corrected, imagining the eye roll and dismissive wave that Sam was surely giving at that moment on the other end of the line. He knew that Sam was just giving him a hard time. Referring to David by the wrong name had been a tradition started by Cooper before it was quickly adopted by Sam. They thought themselves to be extremely clever, but Blaine figured it was easier to just go with it than put up a fight. Going against Cooper and Sam was an exhausting task. At times, it was smarter to simply let them have their fun. Picking and choosing battles with the two was a necessity, and David's name was not a topic for him to dig in his heels.

"Whatever. You've been over for, what, a year now?" Sam asked.

"Five months."

There was a pause, "That's _forever_ in 'Dude Time'. I don't get how you're not banging some other dude right now. But either way, it's time to get back in the saddle, Dude...or _be _saddled, if that's what gets you goin'."

"Sam..."

"What? I saw _Brokeback_. It could have used some explosions and transforming robots or something, but I totally get that you guys wanna have sex too. Dude, if you get off on ri—"

"_Sam_," Blaine hissed out the name in a manner that stopped Sam from even finishing whatever misguided thought he had, "I don't need you putting my private information online to get me a date. If I wanted to, I could—"

"That's the thing! You _could _but you won't." Sam sighed. It was a conversation that the two seemed to have almost every few weeks. Sam would get on Blaine's case about holing himself up in their apartment all the time and Blaine would get defensive and throw a fit. A tense week would go by and then everything would go back to normal.

"B, you've been moping for months. It's time to put yourself back out there. And don't give me that shit that you're 'easing back into it'," he hastened to add, knowing Blaine's usual argument like the back of his hand, "You've been avoiding it like, well, like something people wanna avoid."

"The plague?"

"Don't change the subject!"

Blaine fought against the smile tugging at his lips. He was mad at Sam, damn it! He hated the blond somtimes...not really, but he hated the fact that he couldn't hate him. He felt like a cliche or a character in a poorly written film or TV show.

"I still don't see why you'd humiliate me by signing me up to some stupid website," Blaine pressed, still unwilling to give up without a fight. "Why don't you just drag me out like you normally do? I like that idea a lot better, Sam..."

He'd originally been a little disturbed by just how much his straight best friend enjoyed playing the part of his wingman in gay bars—admittedly, there had been a time when Blaine had questioned the sexuality of his best friend—but as time had gone by, he just became so used to it that he'd given up on figuring out the _why _of it all.

"Because you needed a kick in the ass, B, and that shit wasn't going to cut it. Just...give it a chance, okay?"

"Sam..."

"_Please_?"

Blaine could imagine the blond clasping his hands together and batting his lashes exaggeratedly in that comical way that never failed to get Blaine to agree to his asinine schemes (that was how Blaine had once found himself sprinting away from a security guard at a Barry Manilow concert, clutching the stolen patent leather shoe in his hands and screaming obscenities at Sam for talking him into the act). That stupid crush that Blaine harbored back in high school still made him susceptible to Sam's annoyingly, endearing antics, as much as it pained him to admit.

He sighed and shifted his phone to his other ear. "Fine. But _when_ this fails miserably, I'm blaming you."

There was a whoop of victory on the other end of the line and he could hear the grin that was undoubtedly stretched across Sam's lips when he spoke next, "You're not gonna regret this, B. We're _so _getting you laid."

"Just...promise me that you haven't given me some awful, embarrassing username..."

There was silence.

"...Sam?"

— **Glee —**

"Sebastian, hi!" Annie chirped happily when she saw him the next morning, all bright eyed and bushy tailed and far too enthusiastic for being at work on a weekend. She was like a puppy, a puppy that yipped and licked your face first thing in the morning, waking you up to the giant pee stain they left on your bed.

"What are you doing here today? Shouldn't you be sleeping off a hangover?" she teased lightly, propping herself on the edge of the desk opposite his and swinging her feet girlishly. If it had been anyone else, Sebastian might have given in to his urge to kick their rolling chair away, sending them in the opposite direction, but because it was Annie, he simply grunted in response. No one ever accused Sebastian Smythe of being a morning person.

He scowled into his mug of coffee as he lifted it to his lips. He swallowed his drink before speaking, "I'm beginning to think my social patterns are predictable."

Annie's expression immediately became one of concern. The last thing she'd ever wanted to do was hurt her friend's feelings. "I'm so sorry," she hurried to apologize, "I was just playing, Sebastian, I didn't mean anything by it. You always joke around. I thought it'd be OK to tease you a little. I didn't mean to catch you on a bad day or anything. Is everything OK?"

He looked up and felt a momentary pang of guilt for the tone he'd used. Annie was one of those almost obnoxiously sweet people who didn't actually deserve his temper. Schooling his own expression into something more pleasant (or at least approachable), he shook his head.

"No, it's not anything you said," he reassured her, setting his mug back down. "I'm just in a mood today. I'm sorry."

Usually he'd even play along. After all, it wasn't every day the cartoonishly adorable girl teased or taunted. He was marginally pleased that his own personality had finally rubbed off on her. Being a bad influence was really a lot of fun. Maybe if he played his cards right, she'd start stealing library books and stop holding elevator doors for others.

Her face remained set in that expression of concern. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Sebastian considered dismissing her, but felt he owed her some explanation for his churlishness.

"Elizabeth gave me another lecture last night," he sighed. "She has it in her head that I should be trying to date seriously now, not 'behaving as though I'm still in college,' her words not mine. She thinks that just because she's settling and throwing her life away with Whatshisface, that everyone else needs to find their 'soulmate' and live happily ever after. It's stupid, isn't it? She sounds like she's in high school or something. I mean, I'm not entirely opposed to maybe finding someone at some point…way down the line, but…it's not like I want to waste my 20s with monogamy. That isn't crazy, is it?"

Annie bit her lip. She sort of agreed with Sebastian's friend, if she was being honest.

Sebastian picked up on this almost immediately.

"Et tu, Annie?" he asked, sounding almost wounded.

Somewhat used to his personality by now, and feeling particularly bold despite her previous failing at playful banter with the lawyer, she rolled her eyes, smiling patiently, "Don't be so dramatic, Sebastian. I didn't say a thing."

"That doesn't mean I didn't get the message loud and clear," he responded, pointing his index finger at her, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, "and that message, if I'm not mistaken, is that you think Elizabeth is right."

She blushed a little under his scrutiny but held firm.

"I think she's on to something," she confessed with a shrug, "I might not be a font of knowledge when it comes to successful relationships, but...they can be worth the effort, Sebastian."

This was the most information Sebastian had ever received from Annie regarding her love life (honestly, he'd sort of assumed she went home to a few hundred cats every evening, occupied herself by knitting them matching outfits, and watched _Wheel of Fortune_—not that she came off as crazy or anything, she just seemed that wholesome) and he was suddenly curious to know more: even if that meant listening to yet another one of his friends tell him that love (he did his best not to vomit in his mouth while praying that he didn't spontaneously grow a vagina) was important.

"Is that so?" He asked, picking his coffee back up and smirking at her over the rim, "and what makes you say this? Don't tell me that you have some sort of sex god waiting for you at home? Because, if you do, you've been holding out on me! Does he have a gay brother? Hell, that's not really a deal breaker. I've talked plenty of 'straight' guys into things. You just assure them that it's perfectly normal to be curious, throw in some crap about a mouth being a mouth…they'll do anything. It definitely helps if they're stupid too…"

If anything her blush intensified and she shook her head. "Sebastian! No! Hardly. But...when you do find someone worth your time, it's, well, it's _nice. _It's nice having someone to talk to—"

"I have you and Elizabeth for that."

"Or to have someone just hold you after a bad day, or—"

Her usually chipper countenance morphed into one of frustration when he interrupted again, rolling his eyes and declaring that particular argument: "_Gaaaaaaaay_."

"Or," she continued again as if she hadn't just been rudely interrupted, a testament to her super-human patience, "just not feeling lonely anymore. Going out to a restaurant or the movies and holding hands or playing footsie: you know, playfully touching for the sake of touching, just feeling companionship...that stronger feeling than you get with just friends."

"You sound like an after school special right now. I feel like you're about to teach me the importance of being abstinent, with a bad 90's haircut," Sebastian informed her with a smile.

"Have _you _met Mister Right?"

"No, but—"

"Then how do you know he exists?"

He wasn't being deliberately difficult, not like he was with Elizabeth, just mildly curious. How was it that so many people could be fooled by the myth of "the one"? It felt as though Elizabeth and Annie were two intelligent women who weren't susceptible to the perpetuating cultural lies that plagued women, but maybe he was wrong? What in the world could convince the level-headed female in front of him that some ideal man was out there, waiting for her. More realistically, her future (first, let's be honest) husband was probably somewhere, ploughing his secretary, completely unaware of the idealistic woman who was eagerly awaiting his arrival into her life.

Despite her intelligence, Sebastian still knew where Annie got the notion of Mr. Right from: she was an eternal optimist.

"I just do," she replied pushing herself back onto her feet and smoothing down her skirt, "Haven't you ever met someone and thought: Wow, I want to actually get to know you. You know, find out what makes them tick?"

"Don't sociopaths and serial killers think that way?" Sebastian smirked, letting out a soft cough, trying to hold in his laughter.

She cuffed him lightly upside the head as she walked past, making her way towards the elevators.

"Hey!" He protested in her wake, bringing his hands up to his head, "Watch the hair!"

Her laughter, all light and tinkling, echoed off the polished floors even after she'd disappeared from view.

— **Glee —**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES (TheFauxMe): Whatever Gotta B said, I second it. Your feedback is highly appreciated, and those of you who are reviewing have earned themselves candy and shirtless Darrens, Grants, Matts and Chords. (*NB - no shirtless men can be provided at time of publishing, especially as I sadly don't posses any of them)**

_***To redeem said shirtless pictures, please visit Google, disable your safe search function, and search "_ shirtless" and filling in the desired actor's name***_

**AUTHOR'S NOTES (gotta B writin): Another day, another chapter. I would first like to thank all who turned out to support the first chapter of our joint venture with a review, a favorite, or a follow. Thank you to our AWESOME reviewers: TheChildOfTheTardis, BelaGray, Loki Firefox, Guest, AgainstAllOds, Laura, TVTime, Kat, Guest #2, openmymindcomeinside, and SincerelyYourSecret. **

**Thank you to our followers: AgainstAllOds, Chewi.x, L0N3RBuM, Loki Firefox, Sygonia, TVTime, TormentedGirl, .Riso, .rocks, dantekalem, nslamberty, Writer55, badboylover19, Casey Kennedy, openmymindcomeinside, riseofthephoenix21286 (is your that your birthday?), SetsunaSeiei, LittleMissMarie, SincerelyYourSecret, and epicpickleninja (LOL this name…awesome).**

**And a big thank you to our favoriters: AgainstAllOds, L0N3RBuM, Writer55, autumcalling, kbunny123, and sarah-lee-lovees09.**

**A lot are people who supported my previous story (WLWLWSA) and I just want to say you're all beasts for turning out even more love! I sent everyone a quick (or long) PM, hopefully you all got it. And keep 'em coming! Drop us your thoughts, reactions, amusements, disappointments…at least with the chapter…I mean you could do real life…but that could get awkward. Ok, I'm done. Thanks again for the love! I'm really enjoying the collab with my lovely partner. Hopefully you all are as well!**

**NEXT CHAPTER: **_"You're disgusting," she countered, "and even you have to admit that Grindr isn't a dating site. It's a hook-up site, Bas! They should have just called it 'Hey! You want an STD?'"_


	3. My Best Friend's Tush

**AUTHOR'S NOTES (gotta B writin): Hola, all you gay fan fiction readers…said the gay fan fiction author…sad face…here is another chapter. I suppose I'll let my lovely co-author be the long-winded one this time around. I hope all our reviewers enjoyed the preview that I sent out to you guys! Thanks again for reviewing! Enjoy!**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES (TheFauxMe): ****Hello all you groovers out there in FanFicLand. Once again, I'm thrilled that you enjoyed the last chapter. I'm trying to work up the courage to propose to (read: kidnap) my amazing co-author. Don't tell him, but I do believe I'm slightly besotted. It's probably not healthy. *shrug* Alright, on a serious note, I feel as though I have to acknowledge the sad events of the last week. My thoughts go out to all of Cory's friends, family and fans...I just heard that the next season has been delayed to allow time for the cast and crew to grieve and also formulate an appropriate new plot plan. Huh. I should have thought of a better way to segue into the story...Um, here's some humour to ease the ache? *head desk* Nobody should ever let me do the talking. Go. Read. Enjoy. Review.**

**DISCLAIMER: Yes, we know it's actually Steve Irwin. And no, we still don't own anything except our brilliance and a pretty sweet shopping cart full of Method cleaning products that I picked up today at the store, replenishing my stock. **

— **Glee —**

**A Matchless Match**

**Chapter Three: My Best Friend's Tush**

Sam smirked while he played with his new phone as he rode the Brown Line towards his and Blaine's apartment. Its predecessor, God rest its electronic soul, had unfortunately met its untimely death when Sam had gone out drinking with some of his friends the previous night.

He busied himself by admiring the device, completely entranced by its smooth glass sides and impeccable quality of construction. He was quite proud as he turned it over in his hands, having never owned such a nice gadget before. His old phone had been given to him by a buddy after Sam had accidentally lost the phone he had before _that_—no one ever accused Sam Evans of being responsible with his things ("My mom always said 'That's why you can't have nice things!' I dunno...").

As he continued admiring his brand new purchase, flashbacks from the previous night crept into his memory.

"_My phone is like Batman!" Sam shouted, laughing as he breathed out into the cool, Chicago air._

"_Dude, you're wasted!"_

"_No...no...no look," Sam insisted, "look...I can throw it and it can do stuff! Look, I can throws it and it's not even gonna break cause it's not gonna break! Hey look! Look! I'm gonna throw thi—what!? I don't even know you, Bro!"_

_He glared at a couple passing by, the male member throwing Sam a look that just screamed all sorts of "You look drunk." The disapproving stranger simply ushered his girlfriend away from Sam and his friends, quickly. Mutterings of "drunk frat idiots" could be heard as the Chicago wind whipped through the streets._

"_Hey look! I can throw it and it's gonna not even gonna break 'cause it won't!" Sam shouted again as he pulled his arm back and whipped the small device at the wall of a small dry cleaning shop, a giant smile on his face as though he were sharing the world's greatest secret with his friends. He beamed as the small phone shot through the air, a rocket with a mission of utmost importance. _

_A split second after leaving his hand, the cell phone crashed against the brick and exploded into pieces, tiny shards of metal, glass, and plastic flying everywhere, the air being littered by tiny bursts of technological confetti as they separated themselves from one another. Sam raised his arms, flexing his muscles in victory as he surveyed the damage before him._

"_SEE!? Not even a scratch!" he yelled as he bent over and picked up the battered remnant of his cell phone. The radiant smile was not wiped from his face as he stood there with pride as though he had just won a gold medal at the Olympics. One would probably not be surprised if the American National Anthem suddenly started playing in that exact moment. Sam looked _that_ proud. As he waived the phone around in the air like a trophy after as Nascar race, the home button popped loose and fell to the ground._

_An obnoxiously loud, "Nananananananananananananananana...BATMAN!" could be heard echoing off dark, dirty walls as the group of men continued their way down the sidewalk. Sam attempted the occasional somersault as they drunkenly meandered towards the next bar, his friends laughing as he knocked over numerous trash cans and one unfortunate girl in a pair of dangerously high heels in his attempts. _

"Uhh...I lost it," Sam had told the guy behind the counter at the store when he was asked what had happened to his previous phone, doing his best to look neutral and not at all as though he had purposely thrown his phone at a brick wall the previous evening while screaming the original Batman theme song.

Nope, not what happened _at all_.

His surroundings popped back into focus as Sam was pulled out of his memories. he busied himself, doing his best to try and ignore the throngs of people around him going about their day, some choosing to, like him, ignore those around them while others chose to admire the handsome, chiseled blond that was sitting in their proximity. Thankfully for his own sense of safety and sanity, Sam was oblivious to the appraising eyes of middle-aged women, the throng of teenage high school girls, and the off-putting looking man sitting in the corner, his hand suspiciously disappearing inside his pants.

Sam fiddled with the new device, typing in contacts and downloading his apps. After setting up his email and syncing his phone with his various profiles and other apps (and writing a new tweet, announcing his new phone and being sure to include a #YOLO because he knew how much Blaine hated that), Sam decided to check the online dating profile that he had set up for his roommate. As he pulled it up, he was disappointed to see only two messages sent to him by some random looking guys who looked like they had cats named Mr. Snugglepuffs or a large unironic collection of Christmas-themed sweaters.

Sam was annoyed. How was he supposed to get Blaine a new hot dude if he was only receiving messages from guys who looked like Milton from Office Space? He growled in annoyance, getting off at his stop and once again, thankfully, not seeing the man with the suspiciously missing hand follow him with his eyes.

As he walked down the street, Sam was careful to avoid the randomly placed college students on the street—trying to pay their rent by getting signatures to protect rainforests, or pandas in China, or something—and tried to think of a way to get his best friend laid. He was in the middle of a plan that would require Blaine to spontaneously develop super powers when he was distracted by a supermodel walking past him. He couldn't help the turn of his neck as his eyes followed the woman, appraising every single curve of her body that was on full display.

He blushed slightly, like a child who realized that they had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar, when the woman caught him staring and smiled flirtatiously. No matter how many times he was approached by women, Sam still couldn't feel a little intimidated by the attention.

"Hi…"

— **Glee —**

Blaine sighed as he leaned back at his desk and ran a tired hand through his hair, uncaring that he would undoubtedly pull some curls loose from their gel-enforced positions. He stared at the pile of papers as they sat in his desk, almost mocking him with their sheer number. Staring at the daunting mountain before him, Blaine felt like he had just been asked to personally high five every person in China—he really hated grading papers.

_Why did I ever think assigning that extra paper was a good idea?_

Groaning and stretching his arms while trying to suppress the yawn that was battling to break free from his lips, Blaine made the conscious decision to move his grading party back to his home where he could at least work in comfortable clothes and a better chair. He quickly packed away everything he'd need and was soon turning off the light and shutting the door behind him as he made his way down the deserted hallways of the high school.

The bus ride back to his apartment thankfully passed by quite quickly and somewhat normally. He had a close run in with annoyance when an especially spirited drag queen insisted that an old man was "shading" her, but after spewing out a barrage of insults and moronic one liners that she had undoubtedly heard from any number of lowbrow reality shows, she stomped off the bus, allowing the rest of the passengers to enjoy peace.

It was with great joy and anticipation that Blaine threw his bag on his bed and allowed himself to collapse on his especially comfortable mattress. He closed his eyes, the memory of the day of his bed's purchase popped into his mind. He could almost hear David's laughter as Blaine insisted on trying every single mattress in the store before making his decision. A ghost of a smile slowly crept onto his face, enjoying the memory of their better days. A soft sigh escaped that smile as he opened his eyes and sat back up. Balancing himself on his arms, he looked around the room.

Empty.

Sure, it was decorated quite tastefully and no one would every accuse it of being sparse, but that didn't negate the fact that it was void of another human body, someone with whom to share it. Another sigh slipped out of his mouth before he allowed himself to fall back, onto the bed. It was in that moment that he thought about allowing Sam to post that profile on the dating site. Blaine hadn't been able to actually bring himself to view what Sam had written, half hoping that his avoidance might somehow make it magically disappear from the internet. His eyes traced over the ceiling, thoughts flying through his consciousness. Perhaps it was a good idea to let Sam do it? It wasn't as though Blaine had a thriving social life that included numerous male suitors. Maybe that profile is just what he needed to stop being such a hermit? He winced, realizing that he had referred to himself by using Sam's word: hermit, or "helmet" as Sam had put it.

It was with that final thought that he pushed himself off the bed, kicking off his shoes in the process. The next minute or so was spent slowly pulling his layers of clothing off: sweater, tie, button down, undershirt, and so on. Blaine laid his dirty clothes on his chair before crossing the room and entering his connected private bathroom. He turned the knob and immediately heard the sound of the hissing water hit the inside of the tub. He pulled back the curtain and stepped into the shower, enjoying the feeling of the warm water as it gently massaged his tired muscles.

_At least I can enjoy a relaxing shower after today…_

— **Glee —**

Five minutes later, Sam was bidding the woman, apparently named Tiffany, a hurried goodbye as he erased the number that she had entered into his device. The meeting had started with so much promise, but had quickly escalated to a "GET ME OUTTA HERE" type of situation for Sam when Tiffany decided that it was appropriate to talk about her various obsessions and make uncomfortable and inappropriate remarks.

_"Oh, you're, like, a personal trainer?" Tiffany asked Sam, her eyes lighting up like so many girls were prone to do, reaching out to squeeze his bicep. Something about her grip on his arm sent a shiver up his spine, though not in a pleasurable way. The tiny hairs on his arm stood up, away from his body as his biceps tightened reflexively, almost as though they themselves were rejecting her talons._

_"That's...totally hot. Do you work out a lot? I had an ex who was, like, a gym junkie...ugh...like, I dunno…I don't really like going. I mean, you sweat so much there and no one looks cute all gross like that. Ew. And, I mean, you know, I was only addicted to cocaine for a little while, y'know, 'cause it was great for being skinny and I'm not a big workout person...but…he was always at the gym..." _

_Sam wondered what the hell he'd gotten himself caught-up in, confused as to how she had flowed from one topic to the next. He found himself smiling and nodding along to her story._

_"...And, I mean, how was I s'posed to remember he was allergic to peanuts? He only told me, like, four times, ya know? It's not like it's something easy to remember..."_

"_Wait...what peanuts?" Sam asked, squinting against the glare of the sun. He raised his arm to shield his eyes from the light, his biceps accidentally tightening due to the movement, but quickly lowered it when he saw Tiffany reach up again, clearly wanting to feel his muscle once more._

"_The ones I put in his protein shake," she said, frowning and confused by Sam's sudden movement._

"_But why would y—"_

"_Ugh, I'm so over Chinese people," she scoffed, frowning as she spied over Sam's shoulder._

_He turned to look and saw a hispanic couple crossing the street with their dog on a walk. Nowhere on the street could he see anyone who looked remotely Asian. There weren't even any Chinese __restaurants__ as he scanned his immediate surroundings. Maybe she had seen a picture on a bus or truck?_

"_What Chinese people were you ta—"_

"_I mean, they're really good with nails and stuff, but I mean...you know...they're Chinese..." she said, scrunching her nose and nodding her head towards him as though he should understand what her racist ramblings were about._

"_I don—"_

"_Oh, and the kids are really good at making stuff too. I got this new dresser thing from IKEA and I'm pretty sure Chinese kids made it. They do that, right?"_

"_No, I don't thin—"_

"_But wait, aren't we in a war with them or something?"_

"_No, I think that's w—"_

_"Do you sleep naked?"_

_Wait...what? He'd only checked out of the conversation for, at the very most, fifteen seconds while looking for a quick exit. Was God punishing him for objectifying women? Was this what he got for looking at all those porn sites back when he was in high school?_

_...OK, _fine_…still_ looked at…

_He was cursed, he knew it. He silently vowed to never look at a girl like that again. He made a vow to join a place for nuns, but the guy version, and never even talk to girls again. He didn't want to ever come across another drug-addicted, __homicidal__, racist idiot again if he could help it. After only a few minutes, he was debating whether pretending to mug her might get him away from her quickly enough. _

"_So you wanna buy me dinner? Oh, you should know that I don't eat meat. Or dairy. Or wheat…Or glucose. Oh, or gluten. Or processed food. I don't like all those immigrant foods either. They smell gross and poor people always work there. And there has to be a bathroom close by. Oh, and th—"_

"_I'm half Chinese!" Sam screamed._

As he walked away, thankful for the feeling of safety that had returned to him, an idea then struck him, halting his steps, causing the teens behind him to announce their anger in a slew of four-lettered words as they walked around him, gesturing with fingers, all the while bopping their head to whatever song their iPod was playing: Tiffany was full-on crazy. Comparing her to a parody of a psycho ex-girlfriend probably wouldn't be too far out of the realm of possibilities, but he didn't doubt that she was approached numerous times a day, based solely on her looks. Her looks were what got her so much attention. A lot of guys probably didn't care that she was batshit nuts. They just cared that she was hot. The solution to Blaine's lack of suitors suddenly seemed clear as day: he needed to turn on the sex appeal. He had flashbacks of his teenage self saying the phrase "sex sells" while gyrating his hips inappropriately during a high school glee practice (actually, that had been the same day that he and Blaine had almost gotten into a fight). How had he never thought of that?

He needed to make Blaine sexy.

— **Glee —**

Annie's words played on Sebastian's mind long after he'd headed home early that afternoon. Not even a forced half hour in Jessica's presence (wherein she'd feigned a stumble and latched her talon-like hands upon his backside, having the gall to wink at him and continue to act as though she hadn't just molested him when he'd all but leapt away) had distracted him from the perky girl's even perkier musings. He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts as ludicrous and girly

He was midway through dressing, readying himself for a night on the town, when he caught his reflection in the mirror suspended next to his closet door. He was an attractive man, this wasn't something he'd ever deny, but for the first time ever he looked at himself and saw what Elizabeth had been hinting at: he _wasn't_ getting any younger.

"Shit," Sebastian cursed with a sigh, running his hand through his hair as he stared at himself. He could see it around his eyes: he didn't look twenty-one anymore. He would never go so far as to say that he looked like an old man by any means—because honestly, he was only _26_, not 62—but he still looked..._older, _and damn Elizabeth to hell for putting the thoughts in his head!

He was young! Barely out of law school! What did it matter that he wasn't looking to settle down into a humdrum, near sexless existence? He had at least a decade or so before it would appear more professional to have a permanent spouse and perhaps an adopted Ecuadorian baby or two. Isn't that what "adults" did, or at least according to his friends? His castration could surely wait a few more years. While Elizabeth was content to cut short her youth and surrender the best years of her life to a mindless existence filled with domestic chores and Daniel Steele novels, Sebastian preferred to fill his nights with random men who didn't pester him to help them pick out a puppy at the nearest animal shelter or watch DVRed reruns of Grey's Anatomy. He wasn't quite ready to wear matching outfits or place his balls in his boyfriend's proverbial purse just yet.

Annie's earnest expression came unbidden to his mind at that, her description of companionship and not wanting to be lonely anymore nagging at him. Sebastian continued dressing, scoffing at the thought. He wasn't _lonely_. He had his few select friends to fill that void, and when he was at work he was perfectly sociable.

That said, he mused while he buttoned his shirt, it might be nice to have someone more masculine in his immediate social circle. Elizabeth had her moments, of course (if he hadn't seen her naked numerous times before, he would seriously question whether or not she was hiding a dick in her skirts), but it was a far cry from his school days at Dalton, which, he'd come to realize, he'd taken somewhat for granted. And if he were to find someone who was both sexually and socially compatible with him, then the arrangement could very well have its benefits.

Then again, lightning wasn't known to strike twice. The odds of him finding someone who was able to stand next to him physically, mentally, emotionally (or lack thereof), and most importantly, sexually, weren't that high. All the same, the idea wasn't torturous, if he was being honest. The thought crossed his mind and an amused smirk stretched across his lips as he continued to watch his own handsome reflection manipulate the remaining buttons on his shirt. He was half tempted to give himself a wink, fully aware of the high levels of self-involvement that were filling the moment. He could almost picture Elizabeth rolling her eyes at how obsessed he was with himself. The smirk quickly morphed to an amused grin.

Sebastian was seated in front of his laptop before he gave it any further thought, his fingers flying across the keys. He could concede that the girls might be on the right path in terms of him finding some male companions, but that didn't necessarily mean that he was looking for anything exclusive, or that he was chasing anything serious.

"Hmm..." He murmured when he was prompted to provide a profile picture. He'd need something eye-catching—though, if you asked him, _every _photo of him was—something that said that he was looking for a night out and not a weekend at a bed and breakfast. He wanted guys to message him for club dates or late night meetings, not think he was looking for a deep and meaningful commitment and someone with whom to go to book clubs or cooking lessons. If that was what he wanted, he figured, he might as well upload a picture of him in an apron, holding a _Twilight_ novel.

Sebastian smiled. Inspiration struck.

He stood and moved to the couch and spent a couple of moments taking a few test shots, making sure to get the most flattering angle and lighting, before raising his phone again and snapping a couple of photos. He smirked at the final product and transferred the pictures to his computer, uploading the best one immediately.

Satisfied with the overall look of his complete profile, he hit the save button and watched as his efforts went live, a thrill of some intangible emotion running up his spine. He smirked as his eyes appraised his profile on the screen. It was only a matter of seconds before his inbox was no longer empty.

— **Glee —**

Sam chewed on the bottom of his lip as he closed his front door shut, locking it behind him. Continuous mumbles, all incoherent, streamed from his lips, whispered nonsense, aiding in his attempt to come up with a plan as he entered his home. The frown that he had been wearing for about an hour at that point deepened further as he set his keys on the tiny table next to the door and kicked off his shoes.

How does one make their gay best friend sexy?

Not being a gay man himself, Sam had been having difficulties trying to figure out what to do. He had assumptions of what men found attractive in other men, but without having those fantasies himself, the blond was unsure of how to proceed with a way to help his friend. Were they like Sam and they just wanted to see Blaine naked? Did gay dudes go for smart guys, meaning that Sam needed to use big words in the profile (he really hoped he didn't)? Gay guys liked decorating and stuff, right? Maybe he should take pictures of Blaine's bedroom? Sam always thought it looked like something out of a magazine.

He collapsed onto the couch, frustrated and tired from his musings. He let out a sigh and allowed himself to wallow in his self pity. He remained in his position for a few moments before he heard his stomach growling. Looking at his watch, Sam realized that he had missed his afternoon meal and cursed under his breath. As he sat up, he whipped his head to his right and stared in the direction of the short hallway that lead to their bedrooms and bathroom.

Singing, he could definitely hear singing.

Blaine was home.

Looking at his watch a second time, it occurred to Sam that it wasn't so unusual for Blaine to be home at that time.

He turned his head away from the hallway, pulled himself up, and began dragging his body towards the kitchen before halting in his path and looking back at the hallway…

Was that the shower he could hear? A grin parted his lips. It was. Blaine was singing in the shower. Sam could just picture his friend now: eyes shut, a shampoo bottle clutched like an impromptu microphone, completely lost in his imaginary concert. All that was missing were some random furniture pieces for him to jump on while singing.

If Sam were gay, he'd probably find that kind of adorkable. Hell, he was man enough to admit that it _was _kind of cute, in a totally platonic way. He remembered the one day he had seriously considered if he were gay and into Blaine.

He rolled his eyes in amusement at his own momentary confusion, remembering how he had laughed at the curly haired brunette and announced "Not even a _little_ gay, Dude!" Poor Blaine had been confused over Sam's declaration, not being privy to the blond's thoughts leading up to the epiphany.

Then it struck him: there wasn't a huge leap between cute and attractive when it came to chicks. And _showering _cute chicks were usually super hot. So, if that logic applied to gay guys—and he was fairly certain that it did—_this _was his chance to spice Blaine's profile up a bit. The idea was immediately genius to Sam, and not a second was spent thinking how inappropriate it might be to walk into your male roommate's shower and take a picture of him.

Thoughts of food forgotten, Sam withdrew his trusty new phone from his pocket and snuck down the hallway towards Blaine's room. The singing continued, and Sam found himself narrating his quest like that crocodile dude—the one with the over the top Australian accent...Steve something…Urkle! No…Darwin! Yeah, that one, Steve Darwin!—in his head.

"_Now, the wild Anderson, known scientifically as homo-ihavenolifeus, is a very dangerous creature when provoked_," he whispered, doing his best Steve Darwin impersonation as he spoke to the camera on his phone, "_He's been known to throw major bitch fits and fling hair gel at his attackers. We're gonna sneak on up on him so he doesn't know we're here, then take a picture so that we can use it to find him a mate. Normally, animals like him can find their own in the wild, but this particular Anderson has been in captivity for a bit too long and he needs our help."_

Sam had made it into Blaine's bedroom by now, and was pleased to see that the door to the ensuite was already open. He couldn't help himself and did a somersault as he crossed the room, mentally congratulating himself for not knocking anything over. He thanked fate for making Blaine complain about getting the room with the private bathroom, it made getting in and out without being noticed a much easier task.

"_Shhh! Okay, now, I'm gonna enter his natural habitat—the bathroom, where all of his creature comforts, like his hair gel, are kept—and slowly make my way to the shower, where he is currently practicing his mating call."_

The sounds of Katy Perry, circa 2010, were echoing off the tiles, seemingly following the tendrils of steam that came from the shower. Blaine must be feeling nostalgic. He grinned before turning back to address the camera.

"_Right. Now, what I'm gonna do, is slowly pull back this curtain and hope he doesn't turn around and catch me. The wild Anderson has been known to smack a bitch, if provoked. Let's hope he doesn't notice anything…" _

Sam's internal accent slipped a little at the end, becoming less Australian outback and a bit more confused elderly British woman, when he realized exactly the position he had walked himself into.

He was standing in his best friend's bathroom, barely a few feet away from the shower, while the man in question sang and soaped up his hair, oblivious to his audience. This wasn't like accidentally catching him showering at the gym, nor was it anything like being in a neighbouring stall in a locker room...this was Sam taking nudies of his roommate. This was Sam full on perving on his best friend. At any moment, Chris Hansen could walk through the bathroom door and address Sam, using some slopping pun to mark his entrance.

Sam was going gay creeper on Blaine…and if _that _didn't scream dedication to a task, he didn't know what would.

Clearly, Sam was the best friend Blaine ever had. Blaine should _worship_ him.

Sam reached forward and slowly pulled back the curtain, inch by inch, and peeked an eye into the stall. He smiled in relief when he saw the back of Blaine's head. He looked down at his hand holding the phone as he brought it up, ready to snap a photo of his friend. Just as he pressed the shutter button, his best friend turned his body, and the two were standing face to face. It was as if time stood still as two hearts seemed to stop beating, if only for the briefest of seconds. The only things filling that continued to exist in that moment were the sound of the water running and a muffled snapping sounding, denoting the taking of a picture.

Blaine went silent, and Sam—who had winced at his own stupidity at not putting his gadget on mute—swallowed down the panic that rose in his throat like a choking bile. Hazel eyes met green orbs, both stretched to cartoonish sizes, unbelieving of what they were seeing.

The eye of the hurricane seemed to last only a few seconds before it continued to move, brining with it panic, anger, a lot of four-lettered words, and _a lot_ _more_ yelling. Blaine's voice could be heard throughout the apartment, and undoubtedly in the surrounding units, as Sam sprinted out of the tiled room and to safety.

"Sam!" Blaine's voice called after him, the water shutting off. "I'm going to KILL you! What the hell was that?! Are you fu—"

Sam wasn't stupid enough to turn back and answer him. He raced into his own room and locked the door behind him, fiddling with buttons on his phone, knowing that Blaine wouldn't be far behind him. He smiled briefly at his handiwork as the photo uploaded: it was a pretty sweet shot of Blaine's bare back. He looked on with pride at the muscles that were highlighted by the water running down Blaine's back. Those muscles were, of course, thanks to all the hours that Sam forced Blaine into at their gym. Blaine's head was turned just enough that you could make out his profile.

If he hadn't gone into Personal Training, Sam thought he might have made a fine photographer…or at least direct porn or something?

A banging on the door alerted him to his time being up.

"Open the door!" came the demand from the other side. "I swear, Sam, if you don't, I'll break it down."

"_Crikey_!" a strangled yelp escaped Sam's lips.

With a deep sigh, Sam opened the door, coming face to face with his best friend, who had hastily dressed before coming to kill him. "Look, before you freak out—"

"Before I freak out? _Before_ I freak out, Sam?! I think we're a little past…" Blaine continued to yell, his face still red from the hot water, though Sam didn't deny that it was probably also due to his anger. He'd never seen his friend so livid before.

"Blaine, I can—"

"You filmed me in the shower!"

Sam winced, completely uncomfortable with the volume and high-pitched tone of his roommate's voice. It was Blaine was being possessed by a really pissed off Jar Jar Binks, or a really bitchy Rachel Berry. He didn't doubt that dogs in the surrounding area were responding to the high pitch shrieks.

"No, not _filmed. _I just took a pic-"

"That doesn't make it a whole lot better, Sam!"

"Blaine, I can—"

"I mean unless your name is Joe Francis and the title of your movie begins with _Girls Gone Wild_, there's no reason for you to be filming me while I'm naked!"

"But I just wanted to get a picture of you so that I could—"

"—is stuff that people get _arrested_ for! Do you get that? Arrested! And I don't—"

"—and it's really just because I wanted to make sure that dudes—"

"This is creepier than that one time Tina put vapor—"

"I put the —"

"—remember is waking up the next day, covered in vapor rub and I—"

"—picture on your profile for the dating site and—" his phone began going off, overlapping itself with notification sounds, "—Dude! You've already gotten like three dudes who want to meet you!"

"—keep talking!" Blaine yelled angrily, panting heavily and looking at Sam in a very strange way. The blond didn't know how to proceed. It seemed like he had a 50/50 shot of either getting a hug from his friend or being shot and then dragged out to a wooded area to be buried.

"Uh. Okay. So, I didn't film you, I took a picture..." at Blaine's angry look, he rushed his explanation a bit more, "I just wanted to show them that you're a sexy dude. I mean, not that I think you're sexy, because...ha, yeah...no. But you _are, _Dude_..._just not to me."

He paused. Blaine was still an uneasy shade of pissed off. Sam wasn't helping himself.

"Look, it's not a nudie or anything, Dude, see? You can't see your ass or your junk or anything!" he held up his phone and showed Blaine the picture, before flipping to the notifications screen, "but it's been online for less than five minutes and already these guys wanna meet you. That's good, right?"

Blaine arched an eyebrow sceptically as he read the screen. His eyes shifted back and forth between the very flattering picture on the screen and a timid-looking Sam.

"I guess it's not that ba—"

His words halted as a record scratched somewhere in the world. The frown was back and anger oozed out of his hazel eyes.

"HotGayDude69Me, Sam!? You made my username HOTGAYDU—"

The bedroom door slammed shut as the pounding noises and angry shouting resumed once again.

— **Glee —**

"So I took your advice," Sebastian drawled when Elizabeth picked up the phone.

"You've stopped harassing the barista at our local cafe? Because I'm not entirely certain that he's not spitting in our coffees these days and I'm tired of not being sure whether or not there's sp—"

"Uh, no. And that little moron needs to learn the value of constructive criticism," he rolled his eyes and shook his head out of habit, knowing full well that she couldn't see him.

"I don't think you can call it constructive criticism if said criticism is 'Go kill yourself you fucktard," Elizabeth smirked.

"He's just overly sensitive. I'm sure he'll go write a depressing poem or play about his feelings, judging by the way he looked."

There was a huff of laughter from her end of the line before he continued on, sprawling out on his couch and staring absentmindedly at his open computer screen.

"Anyway," he told her, "I took your advice about...the other thing."

"That awful old sweatshirt?"

She sounded far too cheerful about that. He _liked _his old Dalton sweatshirt, thank you very much, even if it had seen better days. What was wrong with his sweatshirt? It reminded him of his days at Dalton. As much as he complained to his parents about moving him from Paris to Ohio, of all places in the world, he still loved finishing his high school years as a Warbler.

He frowned. "No."

"The stamp collection?"

"You promised you'd never bring—"

"Your cologne?"

"No."

"You're gonna whiten your teeth!"

"I don't need to whiten m—"

"That photo of you being arrested in Vegas?"

He smiled as though reminiscing fondly. "Nobody pressed any charges," he dismissed, "besides, it's a conversation starter."

Elizabeth made a strangled sort of sound, "It has pride of place on your bathroom wall! Above the tub!"

"And it catches your attention, doesn't it?'

"Look, are you actually going to tell me what advice you finally listened to or not, Bas?" Sebastian could imagine her scowl as she delivered the question and he chuckled at how easily she could be riled sometimes.

Debating stringing her along some more, if only to keep himself entertained, he glanced at his laptop screen again and opted against it. He'd called to gloat: he could annoy her another time.

"The companionship thing," Sebastian admitted, forging on to prevent his friend from jumping to conclusions about being 'right' or some similar ridiculous notion. A pompous Elizabeth was the last thing he needed, right after Mono, a sequel to _Glitter_, and a vagina.

"Well, sort of."

He could picture Elizabeth's elation dimming when she asked, "What do you mean, sort of?"

Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, he stretched himself out, "I don't buy into the love and fairy tales crap that you're spinning, but I am..." he paused, as though searching for the right phrase, "taking a more mature approach to putting myself out there."

"What does that even mean? What have you done, Sebastian?"

"I have joined the world of online dating."

Elizabeth was silent after his grand announcement, much to his confusion. He pulled the phone away from his ear, checking to see if the call was still connected. It was. What was he missing?

"Well?" He prompted, a little unhappy that she'd failed to praise him for taking initiative. What the hell was her problem? She bitched for days about him not finding someone and when he finally did something to appeasing her endless amounts of nagging (shouldn't Eric be dealing with that?), she gave him nothing. It wasn't as if he was asking her for a blow job…well…actually, that would be kind of nice…

"Online dating?" She queried. "That's...not what I expected."

His shoulders slumped momentarily before he rallied with, "What didyou _expect_ I'd do, then? I'm not gonna sleep with a co-worker, definitely not a client, and no way will I be one of those _losers _who joins a book club or something equally lame to meet men."

Elizabeth sighed, ignoring the jab at her expense. How she had met Eric was not the topic currently up for discussion. Sebastian's passive aggressive ways would have to be shelved and dealt with at another time.

"Okay, fine, I see your point," she acquiesced, "but online dating? You don't think that's a bit...desperate?"

"And here I was, thinking that you considered meeting men for random hook-ups at clubs as desperate. Make up your mind, Liz. Honestly, Woman…" Sebastian rolled his eyes and glanced back at his laptop, "besides, wasn't it your _fiancé_—or as everyone likes to refer to him as behind his back, 'The Black Hole Of Fun'—who was only telling us last week that the stigma of online dating is changing? Surely you agree with your beloved."

"Be nice, Sebastian," Elizabeth warned.

"But did I lie?"

"There are so many things wrong with what you just said that I don't know where to start."

He chuckled at that and could hear her moving through her own apartment.

"Tell me," she continued, "that you at least signed up with a respectable website."

"I'm insulted that you even think it's necessary to say something like that. Grindr is—"

"Grindr!?" She shouted, not even trying to sound supportive anymore. "Really, Sebastian!? Grindr!? This is you being mature?"

He could hear the tell-tale tapping of her own laptop keyboard as he answered, "Yes, really. I don't know why you're acting like I just told you that I want to set a preschool on fire and then take a dump on Santa Claus's dead body. There's nothing wrong with—"

"It's not a _dating _site, Sebastian. It's about as far from romance as you can get," and before he could respond, she added, "Never mind, I forgot who I was talking to. I don't know why I ever expected you to take this seriously. Of course you'd sign up on Grindr. This is almost as bad as your random club hook-ups. God, maybe even worse because you're doing it sober. You might as well walk down the street naked with a boner, shouting for people to just 'jump on!'"

"Do you know what kind of ridiculously long line I'd have? No pun intended, of course," he responded.

"You're disgusting," she countered, "and even _you_ have to admit that Grindr isn't a dating site. It's a hook-up site, Bas! They should have just called it 'Hey! You want an STD?'"

"It looked to me as though it was anything you wanted it to be," he shrugged, unperturbed by her adamant arguments.

"Well, of course you'd s—"

"A quick Google search informed me that it is, and I quote, 'a geosocial networking application geared towards gay, bisexual, and bi-curious men'…_and _the handy dandy phone app has won a couple of dating site awards."

"Let it not be said that Sebastian Smythe, lawyer extraordinaire, doesn't know how to research whatever hair-brained scheme he's signing up for," Elizabeth eventually replied, before sucking in a breath. There were a few moments of silence that were serenaded only by their soft breaths being carried over the phone speakers and the constantly clicking of keyboard keys.

"Speaking of hair-brained, why the _hell_ is a picture of your junk staring back at me, Sebastian?"

"The fact that you can recognise me that way is both flattering and almost disturbing, Lizzy," he countered teasingly, their 'friends with benefits' deal from college feeling like a lifetime ago.

She'd asked him once, when they'd been extremely drunk, why a gay man would have that sort of standing arrangement with a woman, and he'd brushed the question aside, rationalizing that sex was sex and that he was in college: was that not the most appropriate time to 'experiment'? Straight guys did it all the time, so why weren't gay guys afforded the same luxury…if you could refer to a vagina as a luxury. Besides, he could own the fact that he was vaguely narcissistic, and her personality was so much like his own that she'd held her own appeal, regardless of gender or sex.

When she failed to respond he sighed, "How'd you even pull up my profile anyway?"

"I like to keep tabs on where my gays are around me," Sebastian could practically hear her shrugging.

"Your gays?" He queried, amused at her failed attempt to sound like a Sex and the City character, "I'm sorry Carrie…or should I call you Samantha? I didn't realize that I was one of a pack?"

"Shut up. Look, Bas, you have to take the photo down."

"Why would I want to do that? It's a good picture. I even trimmed before I took it. Besides, it's an anonymous site: you can't even search via usernames."

"It's still hardly professional, Sebastian. Think about it," Elizabeth huffed, and now he could imagine her, folding her arms and glaring in that pointed way of hers. Without even seeing her, he knew that she was about to lecture him and wouldn't give up until he agreed to whatever it was that she said.

"Say you exchange details or whatever it is you do on this thing, and someone saves you as a contact...and they somehow have ties to someone at your firm—and don't even give me that look, Sebastian, this city can be a pretty small world at times—and it gets back to your bosses. Do you really think that's the image they're going for?"

He smirked and opened his mouth to reply, but she continued quickly.

"And spare me the wisecracking about what an appealing image it is, Bas."

The smirk still hadn't left his lips. He opened his mouth once again ready to spout out his second sarcastic remark, only to be cut off, again.

"And don't bother giving me some bullshit about Jessica giving you a raise or something over this. As much as we're both sure that she'd get a lady boner over it, you know that this would only increase her rapist tendencies. You've got enough problems with her sexual harassment without having her somehow stumble upon this, right?"

Sebastian paused, he hadn't actually considered that. His smirk finally left him.

"True," he mused, "She _would_ be the type to stalk these sites, just waiting for me to create a profile..."

Hell, knowing his boss, she probably had minions on the look out for anything remotely resembling Sebastian, reporting back to her with weekly updates and gay porn.

"So maybe you should forgo the dick shot? Be a lady, save it for the second date," Elizabeth added, interrupting his imaginings.

Sebastian smirked, "Second date? What's that?"

"You're hopeless."

He nodded, even though she couldn't see him. "Fine. I'll admit I didn't give a lot of thought to it interfering with my professional life and I can see where it might possibly cause problems further down the line…but the Grindr profile stays."

"For now," Elizabeth conceded, "until you want something a bit more serious."

He laughed and leaned his head back against the couch. "Nothing is ever good enough for you, is it? I suppose the next think you want me to do is start looking at adoption agencies and pres—"

His voice was interrupted by a gagging sound.

"What the hell?" she yelled, "What's going on over there?"

"Sorry, I just threw up. Apparently I can't even say those words without physically rejecting them."

— **Glee —**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES (TheFauxMe): ****Allow me to toot my own horn -and Gotta B's *smirk*- when I say that I'm so proud of us. I read back over these chapters, and I can't help but think "Wow, we wrote this." I know I enjoy reading it, seeing our ideas and words wind together and spring to life, and I personally find it highly entertaining...but it doesn't hurt to get a little feedback. To those of you who have reviewed, favourited and followed HUGE hugs and 'thank you's heading your way. I don't know if I speak for both of us, but I know that I write both for my own entertainment and also for yours as an audience. And each time you respond to something I've written, it just boosts me to do more. We are all here on this site for similar reasons, and every time we leave each other a review, we're keeping each other going. I'm lucky to have found (attached myself to...whatever...) a co-author who inspires me to improve my writing, whose opinion I value so very much, and I know that he would love it if you could stop to drop a review once you've finished each chapter. It doesn't have to be an essay: just a bit of acknowledgement as to whether you liked it or not. Without Gotta B, this story wouldn't exist, and it certainly wouldn't be as good as it is if I had written it by myself. Wow...that ended up being more serious than I intended. Pretend I said something witty and amusing. :) Hugs and high fives to you all. Until next time, darlings.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES (gotta B writin): So here it is! Hopefully you enjoyed it!...? And I know, I know…the guys **_**still **_**haven't met, but hopefully you're still enjoying the ride. But can I just share, that this chapter probably has my two favorite scenes that I have ever been a part of? Sam's scenes with him throwing his phone (and something that was inspired by my actual college shenanigans) and meeting Tiffany, the coked out racist are possibly the pinnacles of my writing "career." Both scenes were born in my head and brought to life with the perfect amount of finesse from the lovely TheFauxMe. I'd never been happier to be her partner than after she sent me back her revisions. But yes, hopefully you enjoyed yourselves, and if you didn't, we enjoyed ourselves enough for everyone!**

**Once again, a HUGE thank you to all of you who reviewed last chapter: BelaGray, AgainstAllOds, TormentedGirl, Loki Firefox, Misgranted (chapter 1, too!), LittleMissMarie, Kat198, sct33, and LaidUp (chapter 1, too!)! And I would just like to say a HUGE apology to Kat198, sct33, and LaidUp for not getting previews out to you guys. I wasn't on my computer very much these past few days and never sat down to send those out. Sorry! I'll be sure to shoot you guys sneak peeks to chapter 4!**

**Another awesome "gracias!" to thos who began following our little dog and pony show here: Harrypotterandgleefan (why is your username my life?), Misgranted, LaidUp, sct33, and frenchyseblaine! High fives to all of you!**

**I would also like to thank blurrfish, yuki86, sct33, and frenchyseblaine for doing us the great honor of favoriting us, because clearly, this is officially their favorite story on this site lol. **

**As my wonderful partner (no, not like THAT!) said, please take a second and leave us a review! We love us some review porn. It's the best! And as thank you's, we'll send you guys sneak peeks at the next chapter! Scratch our back, we'll scratch yours! Thanks!**

**Until next time! **

**NEXT CHAPTER: **_"Don't take this the wrong way, but I think you'd look really hot dancing in a cage," his date whispered in his ear._

_Blaine excused himself to the bathroom._


	4. Looking For Mr Good Enough

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (gotta B writin): Welcome back! Sorry for the delay in this getting out. I'm pretty sure I meant to upload this a while ago, but life once again decided to intervene in both my life and my lovely co-author's (she had a baby, you guys! I expect congratulations for the accomplishment of her nether regions in your reviews! lol). So in summation, sorry for taking a bajillion years and on with the chapter!**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (TheFauxMe): ****Hi all! Once again, I love that you love us like we love us. It makes this relationship work pretty damn well from where I'm sitting. Lol. gBw handles all the shout outs, but I am so excited to see all your reviews each time we post... You are all wonderful. Don't ever change. Apologies for any delays: this chapter might have been out sooner if I hadn't decided to have a baby a month before his due date. But I promise, the wait is totally worth it. This chapter is where the real fun starts, so buckle up, kiddies, and prepare for a ride and a half. Warning—If you hadn't picked it by now, our sense of humor can be a little...twisted. If you're looking for something less than farcical, you're in the wrong spot.**

**DISCLAIMER: We own nothing but the hilarity below.**

— **Glee —**

**A Matchless Match**

**Chapter Four: Looking For Mr. Good Enough**

"Say it again," Elizabeth sang as her smirk grew even wider. She girlishly played with the ends of her hair, unable to, and not caring about hiding her ecstatic state of mind.

"No, you've already made me say it three times," Sebastian growled, masking his large levels of annoyance and allowing himself to only appear mildly annoyed. He refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she was actually getting to him.

"Come on! This is history in the making. Just one more time. I won't ask you again, I swear!"

"Slut's honor?" he asked, looking much more innocent than his question actually was.

"Sebastian!"

He laughed quietly, thankful to at least get in one small jab before sighing and looking to his left, and away from his friend, before muttering his repeated statement.

"You _might've _been right about the whole dating site thing."

Elizabeth let out another deep sigh, though hers sounded much more pleasurable than the one her best friend had released. She leaned back in her seat and basked in the glory of being correct. Being the best friend of Sebastian Smythe meant that one was seldom ever declared correct when in opposition to his opinion. Not that she was any better, but this specific moment wasn't about her (like most of life, in her opinion). There had been numerous moments in their relationship where Sebastian was glaringly in the wrong, yet he refused to admit so. She could only remember one other time where Sebastian had uttered those beautiful three words to her, "you were right", and this time didn't even require Elizabeth to literally grab her friend by the balls and threaten to squeeze harder and twist her hand if he didn't admit defeat.

"So what happened?" she asked nonchalantly, basking in the glow of her victory, "Did you accidentally screw a tranny again? Did he try to introduce you to his friend named Jesus and join his cult? Because knowing you, something horrible had to have happened for you to even consider using a normal dating site where nudity isn't allowed."

"No nudes? Wait, what?" Sebastian's eyes snapped back to her, the beginnings of his mental backtracking written all over his symmetrical features.

"Just spit it out, Lady!" Elizabeth quickly added, mentally scolding herself for giving him any reason to change his mind.

_It's not like he needs any help talking himself out of this. He needs to meet someone that'll be good for him, not blow him in some club's back room and let him do it again five minutes later._

Sebastian rolled his eyes, slowly letting out his breath, as he considered how to start the horrific tale. Had it been anyone else, he never would have even dreamed of sharing his humiliating experience, but Elizabeth wasn't some random person. Despite their strong friendship, and even stronger rivalry, they had always been a confidant for the other. Even though he knew that she would tease him mercilessly, she was the only person with whom he'd allow himself to share his pitfalls. It was an ironic admission, but it somehow made sense to him.

He leaned back in his seat and mentally prepared himself for the laughing that would ensue once he started his story.

"So I woke up..."

_"Fucking...what..." Sebastian muttered as he pressed the palm of his hand against right temple._

_He squinted his eyes, being blinded by the __s__un's rays as they streamed through the sheer curtains that hung, covering the window in the room. He breathed out in annoyance as he tried to sit himself up before falling back into the uncomfortable pillow as a massive pain invaded his head like the army spewing out of a Trojan horse, hiding in a seemly innocent action._

_"Son of a bitch..." Sebastian hissed, bringing his other palm up and squeezing his head, trying to physically force his hangover out. _

_He registered the bitter taste of drunken debauchery on his lips and tongue as he grimaced and felt the slightly rough sheets move over his naked body. The lawyer turned his head when he registered the feeling of another's skin next to his. Sebastian was annoyed with himself as he turned his head back and slowly eased his body up from the mattress. He spotted his clothes lying mockingly on the floor, taunting him as if he were some inexperienced college coed. He quickly dressed himself, only swearing once as his knee knocked into the wall ("Fucking fuck!"), and was about to let himself out of the tiny room when he noticed something peculiar in the corner._

_"What the hell...?" Sebastian let out louder than he had meant._

_"Oh hey," came the sleepy voice, belonging to the room's apparently handsome owner. _

_"Why do you have all those cleaning supplies?" _

_The handsome stranger frowned in confusion before turning his head, following the direction of Sebastian's gaze. Once he spotted what Sebastian was referring to, it was as if his memory had been refreshed. He chuckled lightly, sitting up and allowing the white bed sheet to fall to his waist, exposing a well-defined chest and set of abs straight (no irony intended) from a Calvin Klein billboard. _

_"Oh those," he smiled as he shrugged, yawned, and stretched his arms out, effectively capturing Sebastian's attention with the inadvertent flexing of his muscles, "those are from work. I grab some extra cleaning supplies for my place when I run low here."_

_Sebastian frowned, still experiencing the pains of an alcohol-fueled night. His brain was pounding inside his head, and not the good kind of pounding either. The last thing he needed was to be forced to think and process ambiguous information. He was way too hung over for the conversation that was attempting to infringe on his life._

_"Please tell me you own a cleaning supply factory or something..."_

_The man laughed and shook his head, clearly not having had as much to drink the previous night as Sebastian. He grinned up at a very hungover Sebastian, showing a perfect set of pearly white teeth._

_"Nah! I wish! I'm just a—"_

"A Janitor? You fucked a JANITOR!?"

Sebastian swore that Elizabeth's laughter could be heard across the river and on the other side of town. Cackling may have been a better descriptor for her actions. It was almost as if his best friend had swallowed a pack of hyenas or was auditioning for the role of Ed in _The Lion King_. Instead of playing into her taunting and trying to defend himself, Sebastian instead chose to simply sit in his chair and remain composed, keeping as much dignity as one could muster after admitting such a horrible truth.

"Who's next? I think the valet at the restaurant across the street was kinda cute."

Sebastian rolled his eyes, "Clearly, it was a—"

"Or you know, my doorman is single and I've gotten gay vibes from him in the past. He likes Kathy Griffin."

"I'm not even go—"

"Have you checked to see who's your nightly cleaning crew at the firm? What am I saying, of course you know. I'm sure you've already slept your way that Guatemalan staff and even get free burritos at their family restaurant."

"Eliz—"

"I didn't know your tastes took such a dive, Sebastian. Maybe we could go out to the suburbs and find you a nice substitute teacher to fu—"

"Clearly, telling you was a mistake and I should be flogged for my oversight," Sebastian glared as he crossed his legs. His actions only served to cause his friend to roll her eyes.

"Don't get your food stamps all bunched up, I'm only teasing," Elizabeth smiled, still enjoying the moment more than a friend should.

"Feel free to tease from the inside of a cab as it drives away...into an oncoming train."

"God, someone needs to change her maxi pad. What's important is that you've finally realized that looking Chlamydia in the eye on a weekly basis is a bad thing. I'm done. No more jokes," she said, wearing a straight face and holding up her hands.

Sebastian studied his friend and rolled his eyes: "I know you. You still have one more joke. Let it out."

"Did he smell like Pine Sol? Bleach? Did he try to involve sponges at all or shove a broomstick up your a—"

"And your time is up!" Sebastian loudly interrupted her, crossing his arms as a sign of finality.

"Fair enough."

The two sat in a comfortable silence despite having just had the exchange they did. That was one of the things about their friendship that both enjoyed so much: they were able to have fights or stretches of teasing without letting it affect their relationship. They never walked away feeling angry or bitter because both knew that the other was never being malicious.

Elizabeth pulled out her phone after receiving a text message and Sebastian simply sat in his seat, allowing his mind to turn over the thought that had been in his head ever since he'd left the janitor's poor excuse for an apartment that morning: Perhaps Elizabeth had been right? Maybe sleeping with random strangers wasn't such a good idea? Who knew who else Sebastian had inadvertently shared a bed with? A clown? A fast food worker? A natural red head? A Republican? He shivered at the possibilities.

Maybe it was time to give Elizabeth's idea a chance? Sure, he had signed up on the Grindr app, but that was more of a mocking acceptance of his friend's suggestion than a real effort to find someone. As much as he was opposed to the idea, maybe there was some truth to Elizabeth and Annie's arguments of finding someone?

_At the very least, I can still bend these losers over and get a decent time out of them._

Sebastian nodded his head, having made up his mind. He leaned forward and smacked the phone out of his friend's hand, ignoring her cry of annoyance as the device crashed against the floor.

"So this dating website thing you've been talking about...is there a way to set a minimum for their salary? And I don't wanna date any fatties!"

— **Glee —**

Blaine checked his appearance in the mirror for what seemed like the millionth time. He busied himself, smoothing out any creases in his shirt and double-checking that he was putting his best foot forward with his decision of outfits.

"Dude, stop freaking out, you look fine!" Sam chided as he rolled his eyes and took another bite out of his apple.

"I don't want to look _fine_ Sam," Blaine glared at the blond's reflection in the mirror, "I need to look good! What if he looks at me and walks away? What if I'm wearing a color he hates or my pants make me look fat?"

"Dude," Sam said as he set down his apple, hopped off the bed, and walked up behind his roommate, rubbing his tense shoulders, "calm down. You look good, OK? _Good_. I mean, I dunno...seeing you in these clothes...it's just...I've never thought about it before...but you look real sexy, Bro...I kinda wanna...you know..."

Blaine slapped away Sam's hands that had begun traveling lower, down his body. He glared at the mirror, focusing on the laughing face over his shoulder.

"Be serious!"

Blaine hated it when Sam patronized him like that. Not only did it make Blaine feel like a ridiculous child, but it also affected him in a physical way that brought on a level of confusion that the curly-haired brunette swore he'd left behind in high school. They were roommates, damnit!

"You really need to just calm down, B. You look fine. He'll look fine. You'll have fun. Maybe you'll go back to his place tonight? Maybe you'll call him tomorrow? Or maybe you won't even like him and this'll be it? I don't know and neither do you, Dude. Just stop flipping out. You sound like my little sister!"

The accusation felt like a bucket of cold water…poured down the front of his pants. Blaine turned back to his reflection again, evaluating his decision. Sam was right, he looked good. If Blaine saw himself walk into the restaurant, he'd be attracted. What was there to worry about?

"You're right, sorry," he apologized as he turned around and sat down next to Sam on his bed.

"Say it again," the blond beamed, taking another bite from his apple.

"You're right, Sam. I was acting like a little girl. Happy?"

"Definitely!" Sam said as he put his arm around Blaine's shoulders. He allowed the smaller man to lean against him, probably drawing strength to head out on his first date in months. Sam silently prayed that things went well on the date. It had taken forever to get Blaine to agree to start dating. He didn't want one bad experience to ruin all of that.

He squeezed his friend's shoulder before removing his arm and pressing his hand against Blaine's back, pushing him off the bed and nodding to the door. The dressed up man nodded reluctantly as he grabbed the leather jacket hanging over the back of his desk's chair.

"Come on, Bro! Cheer up! What's the worst that could happen?"

— **Glee —**

The music pumping through the club's loud speakers pounded against Blaine's eardrums. He winced as he looked around, taking in his surroundings of gyrating dancers and a ridiculous amount of laser lights in the dark space. He turned his eyes back to his date for the evening, Tyler: a manager at one of the city's numerous stock broker firms. Blaine had forgotten which one, due to his attempts to block out all the words that came out of the creep's mouth.

"Did I tell you about the time I went rock climbing in China?" Tyler yelled out, trying to be heard over the booming music as he took another sip from his drink.

"Yeah," Blaine called back, "you went with your friend Brad."

Tyler laughed as he set his drink down and leaned back into his seat, continuing to speak as if Blaine hadn't replied, "Man, that was a crazy trip. We had the craziest night with those hookers that we bought!"

— **Glee —**

Sebastian looked around the quiet coffee shop, desperate for any reason to leave his table. Across from him was possibly the most boring person on the face of the Earth. It was taking every ounce of self-discipline not to flip the table over, grab the idiot by the collar, and scream "You're boring! Go kill yourself!" in his face repeatedly.

The first five minutes of their conversation had Sebastian explaining his job at the firm. The rest of their time together—twenty-seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds, not that anyone was keeping track—was filled with The Bore, because Sebastian had already forgotten his name, droning on and on about his ongoing project of trying to isolate a mutant gene or something or other. After his failed X-Men joke, which The Bore had not found funny in the least, Sebastian had accepted the fact that he might literally die of boredom while listening to The Bore's boring stories.

"Oh. And I have to tell you about my work with a group of fungi that my lab is..."

A nearby waitress gasped in shock as Sebastian's head slammed against the table.

— **Glee —**

"So you having fun?" Blaine's date asked as he looked over, smiling like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Uhh...yeah. This is a lot of...umm..." Blaine's voice sounded strained as he forced the smile on his face and looked back at the sight in front of him, trying to keep the disapproval from his features. "Well...it's definitely..._different_."

"I didn't know if you'd like this or not, but I'm glad I went with my gut and took you here!" his date shouted as he grinned even more. He leaned over and spoke into Blaine's ear, "I know a lot of guys probably wouldn't be into this, but it's awesome that you're not all freaked out and stuff."

Blaine nodded quickly. Trying to keep the disgust out of his expression.

"Actually, it's kind of hot how cool you are. I've never met a guy like you before," the date said, tracing Blaine's body with a very specific type of hunger in his eyes. He sent Blaine a smirk that would have made the man blush in any other setting.

"Oh...I can honestly say that I've never met a guy like you before either, Tim." Blaine replied, keeping the forced smile on his face. He nodded again before adding, "And I didn't even know that stuff like this existed. This is such a...uh...a _unique_ first date!"

"Yeah! Not a lot of people know about it, but there are actually a lotta underground midget fights _all over_ the city! If you want, I know a place we could go next time where they actually oil them up before they fight! Sometimes they even dress them up in animal costumes!"

— **Glee —**

"So you're on track to be CEO in a few years?" Sebastian asked, impressed despite his best efforts.

"Well," Eduardo replied humbly as he averted his eyes and flashed a shy smile, "I mean nothing is set in stone, but my mentor told me that's his plan for when he retires in a couple years. I've been really blessed to have the CEO take me on as a mentee. I don't know why, but I just count myself lucky for having that opportunity."

The man's humility was bordering on annoying, it was as if the guy was trying to win a Miss America pageant, but Sebastian just tried to remind himself that there were actually genuinely humble people in the world. Annie was a perfect example of that, and he liked Annie!

"So what do you do in your spare time?" Sebastian asked as he took a sip from his glass of wine.

"Oh, I like to work with a few different organizations that's our company has partnered with over the years. I've found that I really like working with people. I have a young boy that I mentor and there's a soup kitchen that I volunteer at on the weekends," Eduardo answered as he took a sip from his glass of water and smiled at Sebastian.

"Oh..." Sebastian said, suddenly realizing that he had very few things in common with the gorgeous man sitting across from him. It was like the guy had Mother Teresa up his ass or something.

"Sometimes I like to go help out at an animal shelter that's close to my place. But I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. Your profile said you like to do some charity work too?"

Sebastian smiled as he took another sip from his glass, trying to think of something to say. The charity work that he had referred to in his profile was actually him deciding to finally acknowledge Fred, the pimply intern at his firm and the fact that he had stopped hiding Marshall's desk chair (both per Annie's request).

"Yeah, I like working with poor people, too. I like feeling like I'm making a difference in their lives. The poorer the better," he laughed uncertainly, desperate to change the subject at the confused look on his date's face, though the man laughed politely anyway.

"You sure you don't want something to drink?" Sebastian asked, gesturing to the glass of water sitting on the table.

"Oh no, I'm fine. I don't drink," Eduardo answered with a smile and a small shake of his head.

"You mean on the first date?" Sebastian asked, confused.

"No, at all. I don't drink alcohol."

"Oh."

— **Glee —**

"I'm having a lot of fun, Blaine," Frank smiled across the table, his face lighting up with sincerity.

"Me too," Blaine replied, offering his own smile. The date had been gone really well thus far, a nice surprise compared to his previous dates.

"So you think maybe we can get out of here? I don't want to sound presumptuous, but maybe we don't have to say goodnight just yet?" Frank asked. He held a hopeful look on his face as if he was uncertain of the response he would get.

"Yeah," Blaine decided as they both got up from their chairs and made their way out of the busy restaurant, "I think I'd be OK with tonight lasting a little longer."

Finding someone of Frank's caliber made Blaine question his decision to wait so long before dating again. Sure, he had to subject himself to some truly questionable people to find the man that was now to his right, but it suddenly seemed well worth the effort. Frank was the CEO of a small water bottle company that he had started back when he was in college. Under his direction, the company had grown to a respectable size. What was more, Frank was an avid runner who took pride in staying in shape, something Sam would surely approve of. He had run in numerous marathons around the country, raising money for various non-profit organizations in the process.

He was perfect. How did Blaine get so lucky?

"So what did you have in mind for tonight?" Blaine asked, using his flirty voice as he let his hand casually run along Frank's arm, enjoying the feel of the muscle flexing beneath his fingers once the man realized what Blaine was doing.

"We'll I thought we cou—"

Frank stopped, jumping back onto the sidewalk as a taxi cab came to a screeching halt right in front of him, just barely avoiding impact.

"What the fuck!?" Frank screamed while slamming his fists onto the hood of the car.

The cab driver got out and yelled at him for hitting his car, angrily apologizing and saying it was an accident.

"An accident! You being here is an accident, you FUCKING MORON!"

Blaine's eyes grew wide in shock as he saw his mild-mannered date transform into a raging beast.

"You should be thanking your fucking third-world-gods that we even let you into our country, you idiot! Who the fuck taught you how to drive!? GOD!" He slammed his fists on the hood once again before moving to the side and kicking a small dent into one of the cab's doors, before it sped off. He raised his fists, using his middle fingers to express what he thought about the cab driver that was speeding away.

With a small sigh and an apologetic smile, he turned back to Blaine, all traces of his Mr. Hyde personality gone.

"Sorry about that."

"…It's fine," Blaine replied unsure of what to actually say.

"I just can't wait until the government stops letting all these people into our country. Immigrants," he chuckled, "who needs 'em?"

— **Glee —**

"...and I know it's weird since I'm gay, but it's because of my belief in Jesus Christ that I've decided I don't want to have sex again until I'm married. I also..."

Sebastian simply got up from his seat and walked out of the restaurant, not looking back, leaving behind a very confused date shouting after him.

— **Glee —**

Blaine smiled uncomfortably as he looked down at his still undisturbed drink, looking for any traces of a date-rape drug in it.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I think you'd look really hot dancing in a cage," his date whispered in his ear.

Blaine excused himself to the bathroom.

— **Glee —**

"Check please!" Sebastian yelled, midway through a story of working with orphans in Africa.

— **Glee —**

"He tried to feed me to his pet snake!"

Blaine was yelling into his phone, waving frantically while he attempted to hail a cab. He continued to jerk his hand desperately, praying that the gods that hated him for whatever reason would finally take pity. He looked over his shoulder, trying to make sure that his date hadn't followed him. And to think, he'd thought agreeing to a lunch date in the park would guarantee his safety.

"_Just let me make you a dating profile," Sam said…"There's no way this could possibly be a bad thing," Sam said…I'm going to kill him…I'm going to go home, throw out all his protein shakes, and ki—_

Cooper's raucous laughter interrupted Blaine's thoughts, causing his frown to etch itself deeper into his features.

"Is that a euphemism, Little Brother, because as much as I love you, I really don't wanna hear about how some guy made you go down on h—"

"No! Cooper! No, he had a snake. A _giant snake_! Who brings a snake to a public park!? I don't even thi—stop laughing!" Blaine yelled angrily into his phone, sighing in relief and annoyance as a yellow cab finally pulled up to him. "I'm serious, Cooper! It was an honest-to-God snake! A python or something!...and since when do you not want to hear about my sex life? Aren't you the one that left that male thong on my bed with the note 'For you and your boyfriend and all your gay sex'?"

"I was just trying to help you give Danny Boy a nice Valen—I mean…I have no idea what you're talking about! Sam probably put it there…"

"You literally just confessed to actually putting the—wait, why are we talking about this? I was almost _killed_ today, Cooper! Stop being distracting!"

"You're the one that—"

"Cooper!"

To his credit, there was some semblance of an apologetic tone to his voice when Cooper next spoke, "Are you sure you aren't overreacting? There are plenty of people with weird pets, B. Maybe he just—"

"He brought a snake to the park and asked if I wanted to wear a red hood! I don't think I misinterpreted that!" Blaine yelled into his phone, not noticing the alarmed look that the cabby shot him, in the rear-view mirror.

"Yeah, but…I mean…red hoods are cool, right? Maybe it's some weird gay fashion thing, or—"

"Last time I checked, giant pentagrams painted on a hood aren't really much of a fashion statement, Cooper! Unless the statement you're trying to make is 'I love Satan!'" Blaine felt the car swerve suddenly. He looked forward just in time to catch two eyes quickly look away from his in the mirror.

"Well, that just seems a little unfair to people who—"

"Cooper!"

"Fine, fine. So you dated another creepy possible-killer guy. Just chalk it up to another story for the grandkids. Come on Little Brother, where's your sense of adventure?" Copper responded, all signs of an apology absent from his voice. He annoyingly sounded amused again, as though he didn't full register that Blaine almost became a victim of a horribly cheesy SyFy Original Film monster.

"There's something seriously wrong with the phrase '_another_ creepy possible-killer guy' being applicable to the guys that I date. I shouldn't be dating future serial killers or sacrificial serpent worshipers…"

"Maybe you have a thing for that whole 'I wanna kill you' type of guy," Cooper forced before bursting into another fit of laughter.

His mocking laugh continued to ring in Blaine's ears as he scrunched his face in annoyance.

"Thank you for being supportive and helpful, Cooper. Let me show you my appreciation for all that you've done by hanging up on you."

"Aw, come on, B…don't…don't be like that. I'm only teasing. Can't an older brother tease his little brother without it being a federal offense?" Cooper asked.

Cooper's words may have eased the tension between the two, but something about his laughter and the fact that he could barely get them out told Blaine that Cooper maybe wasn't being as harmless as he said he was.

"Fine," Blaine said, rolling his eyes and groaning exaggeratedly. "Hey, can you hold on for a minute?"

"Sure, what do you—."

Blaine quickly pressed the end button and shoved his phone into his pocket. He leaned back in the seat and crossed his arms, not caring at all that he looked like a five year old who was just put into Time Out. He turned his scowl away from his lap and looked out the window. The Sun was slowly being blocked as dark clouds began to move in front of it.

Something told him it was not going to be a good day.

— **Glee —**

Sebastian sighed as he stood in line, impatiently waiting for his beloved caffeinated beverage. He allowed his eyes to scan the crowd listlessly, silently deciding the life stories of the people around him, one of his favorite games.

There was the woman who had won a large sum of money on a two-dollar scratch it, only to squander the lot on a poor boob job and anal bleaching; the man who owned a large pet supplies company who had just discovered that his wife was cheating on him with a woman named Janet; and...

_Hello handsome. _

Sebastian's interest perked up considerably as his eyes landed on what had to be the prettiest man he'd ever seen outside his own mirror. He was tall and slender, with dark hair impeccably coiffed atop his head and eyes, a stunning shade of blue.

As if sensing Sebastian's appraisal, the man caught his gaze and smiled. And the smile just made him prettier, all cheekbones and pearly white teeth set in a perfect line. Yes, the guy had to be _at_ _least _mid-thirties, but he was hot, and it would be a crime if a man of that physical calibre was straight.

Coffee all but forgotten, Sebastian stalked towards the object of his attraction, his own confident smile in place, a predatory gleam in his eye. With a formed plan of approach in Sebastian's mind, the look was quickly replaced by a feigned look of curiosity mixed with hesitancy.

"This might sound really cheesy," he began, "but I swear I've seen you before…"

The smile broadened, revealing an appealing dimple, and the man shrugged good-naturedly.

"Maybe you've seen me around?"

"Maybe…but I don't think that's it…" the easy smile on Sebastian's lips stretched itself even wider. The poor guy seemed genuinely clueless.

_This is gonna be too easy._

"Huh…well, are you into theatre? Maybe you've seen me on stage?"

An actor. Not a bottle of Windex in sight. It wasn't an ideal profession, but it definitely beat his last bedfellow. "That must be it." He nodded as the barista called his name. He wanted to smack her for her awful timing.

In that moment, Sebastian decided to do something he'd never done before. Usually he was the pursued, not the pursuer, but something about this man just spoke to him. The desire to see this man spread across a mattress, naked and calling out his name—or maybe dressed up like a ken doll, coming out of a life-size box and stripping down to nothing—was just too great for him to leave it to chance. Besides, the guy didn't seem that bright to begin with. He probably didn't even know that he was being hit on.

"Look, that's me. I've got to go. Can I get your number? Maybe take you to dinner or—"

He stopped and frowned with annoyance when the man started to laugh. Unused to rejection, he scowled and turned away, trying not to flinch when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Hey, Man, I'm sorry. You just kinda surprised me. I'm flattered, but I'm totally straight. Sorry about that."

Scrambling to collect a little of his dignity, Sebastian arched an eyebrow. The actor's hand was manicured, his cologne designer and divine, and he was clearly blessed with a sense of fashion. 'Totally straight' didn't compute. But then again, the man was turning him, Sebastian Smythe, down. He either had to be straight or retarded.

_I suppose he must be straight then._

"Pity," he said, giving his no-longer-prey an appraising once over, then, with his trademark smirk in place, "You wouldn't have a younger, gay brother by any chance?"

The guy grinned and gave him his own once over, which was vaguely unsettling.

"Actually..." He started, but was cut off by the barista.

"Cooper!"

"And that's me. Gotta go. Nice meeting you."

Sebastian watched him disappear towards the counter with a frown, then remembered his own coffee, which would most likely have cooled far too long for his taste. The entire endeavour had been pointless. How frustrating!

Cooper, meanwhile, sipped at his flat white as he made his way towards his latest rehearsal, his own face scrunched in thought. What the hell was Blaine complaining about? There were obviously a number of available, viable gay men his age prowling the city if that interaction was anything to go by. Maybe he should have taken the guy's number as a favor for his little bro? Or would that be construed as meddling? Man, Blaine was harder to read than most women Cooper came across.

— **Glee —**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (TheFauxMe): *****Wipes tears of laughter from eyes* Ah, rereading it never fails to entertain me. I'm telling you, my coauthor is divine. I feel a bit like a slacker with this instalment, because gotta B did so much of the work! Everyone, show the man some love! I'd tell you my favorite parts, but I'm more interested in seeing what you thought. You'll earn yourself a sneak peek of the next chapter that way. *exaggerated wink***

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (gotta B writin): So there it is. I actually wrote this and the next two chapters during a few days when all my friends decided to enjoy summer and I was stuck at home…but hey, it turned out to be productive lol.**

**So what'd you think? Please take a minute or two and jot down your thoughts and tell us your favorite parts. Feel free to throw in some suggestions for future scenes. We're always open for input! **

**Thank you to all of you who reviewed Chapter Three! I definitely owe you guys a response (sorry again for being all MIA). You all rock hardcore. Look for PMs in your inboxes probably tomorrow. I'm planning on responded to you all tomorrow after I get home from work. Thank you to all our reviewers: Loki Firefox, BelaGray, sct33, AgainstAllOds, LaidUp, TVTime, Misgranted, Chrysalyss, and jay.142!**

**Thanks to our new followers: sooks, lilypond88 (the HP fanboy in me thinks of Mama Potter when I read your name), Never Fly Away, hoesovrbros8 (can I just say…slow, dramatic clap for that name lol)!**

**And last, but not least, thank you to those who favorited our story: LaidUp, Never Fly Away, KellsieSLA, and prci8!**

**Again, thanks for reading, take a minute to leave a review (and congratulate my dear friend TheFauxMe on becoming a new mama), look out for review responses from last chapter, AND sneak peeks to chapter four (for those of you who reviewed)! Ciao!**

**NEXT CHAPTER: "I can't believe it's been almost a year since I've seen you!" Blaine said into the brown hair that had somehow found its way into his mouth during the course of the short embrace.**

**"I know! Let's not make this a habit. We need to see each other more often!"**


	5. No Sex 'N' the City

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (gotta B writin): Welcome back! Sorry this took a little bit longer than anticipated, but not horribly long I hope. Just an extra week or so, right? I think our aim is a new chapter every 2 or 3 weeks. Either way, I'll shut up. Hope you enjoy it!**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (TheFauxMe): Hiya! A huge thank you to everyone who sent their congrats on the tiny person in my life, and to gBw's hilarious way of describing it. Honestly, people, the euphemisms this man comes up with... he definitely keeps me entertained :) Anyway, my little time usurper is a month old today (**gBw:yeah…totally uploading this like 2 days after I said I would…so this sentence is a few days old…my bad)** and so it seems only fitting that we post a new chapter to celebrate! Any excuse, right? (Wink wink.) I love reading all of your reviews and I'm looking forward to the reactions to this one. I had a blast with a couple of the scenes, and, as usual, gotta B's had me laughing out loud something shocking... Ah! I'm babbling! Go read!**

**DISCLAIMER: The levels of awesomeness in the chapter may be too much for most readers. We recommend a helmet be worn at all times while reading this chapter.**

— **Glee —**

**A Matchless Match**

**Chapter Five: No Sex 'N' the City **

Blaine pushed open the door to the small café, enjoying the small ring of the bell as he did so. His eyes scanned the room's inhabitants until his eyes fell on a beaming brunette who was emphatically waving from her seat at a small wooden table. He quickly made his way to the petite woman, brushing past the various patrons of the small establishment, and wrapped his arms around her.

"I can't believe it's been almost a year since I've seen you!" Blaine said into the brown hair that had somehow found its way into his mouth during the course of the short embrace. He smiled into the embrace as he felt small arms encircle his waist.

"I know! Let's not make this a habit. We need to see each other more often!"

"Well, we could but that would require you to stop being a successful Broadway actress with a touring show! I guess I should count myself lucky that _the _Rachel Berry agreed to have lunch with me," Blaine teased, his eyes filed with pride as he smiled at his friend.

"Oh stop it," Rachel jokingly frowned as she swatted a hand at Blaine's arm, eliciting a laugh from the man, "it's just an ensemble part. It's not like it's a starring role or anything."

"Not yet," Blaine corrected, "Besides, isn't _Fiddler_ one of your favorite shows?"

"It's not a Barbara role, but it's something," Rachel conceded with a smile.

"I'm sure you have at least eleven different plans to get rid of one of the leads so you can take over," Blaine boasted with a playful grin, "and if your name isn't on the poster by the end of the tour, I'll be ashamed of you, Ms. Berry!"

"Oh, shut up!" Rachel laughed, swatting his arm again, "…and it's only seven different plans" she added with a dramatic eye roll, poking fun at her former self.

The two friends laughed as they leaned back into their chairs, enjoying the moment that had been denied to them for so long due to their physical separation.

The overly confident and star-hungry girl that had once walked the halls of William McKinley High had since changed and matured, turning into a struggling actress who had learned the art of humility through a series of rejections and "no's" from numerous casting directors. She still had occasional lapses into her old, vaguely narcissistic self, but they were few and far between. Overall, the end product had resulted in a much more well-balanced human being, a vast improvement from the original product (at least according to Santana).

"We'll, I guess either way, I'm glad to have my Maria back, if only for an afternoon," Blaine laughed as he finally slid his coat over his shoulders and placed it over the back of his chair.

"We both have to thank the theatre in St. Louis for having electrical problems. We got the weekend off and I know you'd never forgive me if I went to visit my dads in Lima without stopping in Chicago first. Besides, I'll be back for our run here in Chicago," she said as she took a sip of her tea, gesturing to the cup sitting in front of Blaine.

Blaine smiled as he took his own sip, thanking Rachel for remembering his drink order and getting it for him. After waving aside his expression of gratitude in a way that only an old friend could get away with, the two began a long conversation that covered almost every aspect of their lives since they had last spoken. Rachel shared with Blaine about her on-again-off-again relationship with Finn that was currently in the off-again state ("Oh no, I'm sorry to hear that. Be sure to send me a text next week when you're back on…OW! No hitting!") and how the director of her show had offered her the position as understudy to one of the show's leads ("Rachel, that's awesome!"). General updates on her family and friends ("Kurt's doing well. He's still with Chris. I think it's getting serious because Kurt said they're thinking about moving in together once our lease is up.") also made it into the mix before Blaine started sharing about his own life. He updated Rachel on Sam and Cooper, how his classes were going, and then he finally told her, albeit hesitantly, about the dates that he had been on and how Sam had forced him into the dating website.

"He wanted to have a threesome with the drag queen?" Rachel squealed in shock and amusement as she quickly tried to hide her laughter behind her hand.

"Way to be supportive, Rachel," Blaine said while tipping and shaking his head, a smile present on his lips.

"Sorry that's just...wow. And the other guy seriously made a pit stop to his drug dealer on your guys' way to the restaurant? Why did you even go? What's wrong with you!? Who still goes on a date with a guy that just bought cocaine? Blaine Warbler, do I have to be worried about your decisions while I'm away?" the bossy side was slowly making an appearance as Rachel looked at him mockingly, though an undertone of worry was still present.

"I don't know! What if he thought I was going to report him or something? I mean...he wasn't a _horrible _date. After we left the alley, things weren't all that bad. I've definitely had worse," Blaine defended.

"I don't think that's the best defense for a person who's questioning your decision making skills. There are literally at least a dozen other things better than 'Things got better _after_ he bought the drugs.'"

"True," he laughed at himself, "but I promise that you don't need to worry about me. I think I'm done with that site. Clearly, I need to sign up with one that does thorough background checks on all its members. No more drug abusers."

"Or embezzlers," Rachel added with a small laugh.

"Yeah," Blaine said thoughtfully, quickly adding, "I should probably call his company and tell them about him..."

"Well," Rachel began slowly, as if she was speaking while her mind was processing the thought, "if you want, a friend of mine used a matchmaker in New York? She met a really great guy. They're engaged right now, actually."

"A matchmaker? Those actually exist?" Blaine asked, surprised at the suggestion.

Rachel nodded her head and explained how her friend, Stephanie, had gone in and was interviewed by the service and the different questions they asked her about herself and the type of man she was looking for.

"She said the process was pretty easy and that the guys that they matched her up with were a lot better than the ones that she'd met on websites or at bars. I think she only went on a few dates before she met Aidan. They've been together for about a year now. I'm pretty sure she told me he had proposed last time we talked," Rachel explained, the last part more to herself than to Blaine, as she tried to recall the validity of her last statement.

Blaine looked doubtful at the idea. A matchmaker? Wasn't that that a little archaic? Did they even have those in Chicago? There was one part of Blaine that was intrigued by the idea: someone else could figure out who Blaine was, who he needed, and do all the work. It was a very appealing option, but at the same time, he didn't want to be _that _guy who was desperately searching for a boyfriend or a husband. Signing up for a dating site _and _going to a matchmaker? It seemed a little desperate to him.

But then again, _wasn't_ he a little desperate? He was a 25 year old who spent his weekends watching TV alone and ordering takeout. He spent his free time grading papers and hanging out with his older brother and roommate, whom he had known since high school. Even though his prime years weren't far behind him, it wasn't as though his life was a shining beacon of a full social life.

Blaine's attention snapped back to Rachel's voice when he heard her say his name.

"...and it's not like I'm forcing you to do it, but maybe you should think about it," Rachel said while putting a hand over Blaine's with a gentle smile.

"Why are you pushing this?" Blaine asked more out of curiosity and not defensiveness. It wasn't as though Rachel was an uncaring person incapable of thinking of others, but there was something about her tone as she spoke and a look on her face when she looked at him. Something was different.

"Is it so surprising that I just want to see you happy again, Blaine?"

"What? Rachel, I _am_ ha—"

"No, you're getting by," Rachel interrupted, fixing him with a look. "It's been months, Blaine. You haven't been the same since. And don't think I didn't see that look on your face when I was talking about Kurt and Chris, either."

Her words were vague, but Blaine knew exactly what she meant. Other than Sam and Cooper, Rachel was the only other person that Blaine opened up to about his break up with David. Looking back, Blaine had to wince at the image that he had projected: a complete mess. He had really seen a future with David and thought that he and the lawyer would actually get married and grow old together. And hearing about Kurt's happy relationship...well, he had to admit he was slightly jealous of that.

It wasn't the sort of jealousy over not having Kurt—no, that ship had sailed years ago. He was honestly happy that his ex-boyfriend had found someone new. It was a jealousy of what Kurt had: a boyfriend. A future. It wasn't like Blaine was crying into his pillow every night, wailing for someone to love him forever and ever, but he would be lying if he didn't feel the occasional sting of being single, watching couples around him while he picked up his order of dinner for one.

"Rachel, I..." he breathed in deeply, thinking about his next words very carefully, "I know things were bad after David, but I promise that I'm not some depressed person living in the past."

"That's not entirely what I meant, Blaine. But you forget, I'm a little bit psychic, and—"

Blaine rolled his eyes and set down his drink. "Yes, I get a little lonely sometimes, but I promise that I'm not opposed to meeting someone new. I mean, I told you, I've been trying. And just because you're Jewish doesn't mean you have some third eye or anything."

"My Bubbe says that all women in our family ha—"

"Rachel, I love you…but no."

The look she gave him was shrewd. "I'll pretend you didn't just call my Bubbe a liar if you say you'll think about looking up a matchmaker here in Chicago?" Rachel pressed while taking a sip from her cup again, not taking her eyes off of his.

"Fine," Blaine laughed lightly, hands held up in the air, "I promise I'll think about looking up a matchmaker. I'm not opposed to love, Rachel, _or_ your Bubbe. I love her cookies too much to ever offend the woman."

She smiled as she nodded and reached for his hand, squeezing reassuringly, "As long as you're remaining open minded. I'd hate to have to stage an intervention."

"Please, Rach, who are you kidding?" He chuckled, "Underneath it all, there's still a bit of Old Rachel just dying to break out the dramatic monologues and inspirational songs to guide me on my way."

She blushed a little and looked away, bringing her drink back up to her lips, trying to fight a smile and force a disapproving look on her face, "I'll admit, I _may_ have a few suitable songs in my wheelhouse, specifically practiced for just such an occasion."

"A few?" He prodded teasingly.

"_Matchmaker, Matchmaker make me a match_..." She sang quietly, laughing when he face-palmed and shook his head. She schooled her expression into something resembling complete innocence, her eyes wide and her voice surprised.

"What?"

"_Fiddler_, Rach? Really?"

She shrugged, her eyes glinting with mirth, "Did you honestly expect me to be subtle? I don't even know if the word is truly in my vocabulary."

"You and me both."

The two laughed and continued talking well into the afternoon.

— **Glee —**

Sebastian continued to repeatedly bang his head against the counter in front of Annie's desk. People began to look at him as they hurried by, undoubtedly on their way to deliver or complete precious legal documents.

"Sebastian! People are staring!" Annie fiercely whispered, smiling apologetically to her passing coworkers as if the sight of a grown man banging his head against a desk was only slightly odd.

"But if I bang my head enough times, maybe I'll give myself amnesia and the I'll forget the Hell that I've had to go through these last few weeks," he moaned as he continued to attack the marble surface with his face.

"Or you'll break your nose and be horribly deformed for the rest of your life," Annie answered, playing on Sebastian's vanity. She smiled when her tactic worked and his face halted, hovering an inch from its point of impact.

"Why does God hate me so much?" Sebastian asked as he folded his arms across the cool smooth stone and let his head rest on them.

"Because you're a sorry excuse for a human being, you piece o—"

"Go fuck yourself Tom. And your haircut makes you look like a small-town lesbian," Sebastian snapped without even turning around. He smirked as he heard the man stop behind him briefly before grunting and walking away.

"Was that really necessary?" Annie asked, her eyes sending him waves of disapproval.

"He started it."

"I can't believe a grown man is defending himself with that defense. It's beneath you, Sebastian. Are you going to ask me to pull your finger, next?"

"Aw, come on Annie. I was just teasing. Tom and I do it all the time!" Sebastian said, a playful smile pulling at his lips.

"Is that what you call tripping him in front of all the senior partners?" she asked, crossing her arms and looking at him expectantly.

"That was an accident!"

"And the time you—"

"Let's not belittle this conversation with specifics and turn it into a 'What did Sebastian allegedly—'"

"There's nothing alleged about the time you—" Annie cut in.

"Irregardless. We need to focus on me and these horrible dates," Sebastian lamented, trying to pick up her stapler before having his hand slapped away.

"Well why do you think they're going so horribly?" Annie asked, deciding to ignore her first impulse, which was to point out that most conversations with Sebastian were about him (she didn't want to offend him).

"Because they're all boring!"

"That's not very helpful."

"_They _weren't helpful," Sebastian challenged.

"We'll we can't help it that you find them boring, Sebastian. We can't fix a problem that we can't control. What if we said that the problem was that you keep picking boring guys to go out with?" she tried, tilting her head and giving him a look that unknowingly always brought him to his proverbial knees.

"...keep going," Sebastian replied with one eyebrow arched high into his forehead.

"I think the problem is your criteria for these guys. What do you look for when you ask these guys out or say yes to them asking you out?"

"I don't ask them out, just for the record. But I guess if you must know, they have to be good looking and have an acceptable job," he answered with a shrug.

"That's it?" Annie asked in disbelief.

Shrugging a second time, Sebastian responded, "What else is there to screen? Good looking means I won't have to look at a bloated, pimply-faced Shrek all night who I would pay to keep their hands off of me. If they have an acceptable job, it means that I won't have to stare at a pile of generic brand cleaning supplies in the corner of their room when I wake up in the morning."

Annie looked confused at his words, "Where did generic brand clea—"

"So what's your point?" Sebastian interrupted, hoping to not have to retell his shameful experience.

Shaking her head, "My point is that you're not even concerned that you may not have the same interests as these guys. Good looking and rich may have worked for your...previous ideas of what a date was, but it won't cut it if you want to actually start a relationship with someone."

Sebastian let Annie's words marinate in his mind, trying to decide what to do with them. She was either right and he was going about the whole thing all wrong, or she was wrong and Fate was just enjoying screwing him (an appropriate and ironic punishment, considering how many guys he'd screwed in the past—literally and metaphorically). He didn't like the idea that she was right because he didn't like the idea that he was bad at something. Dating was something new, something he'd never done before. He'd gone on dates here or there, had the very rare repeat with a guy, but nothing that was ever sincerely an attempt at finding a suitable companion. He was in over his head and his refusal to expose his inexperience was clearly costing him. Perhaps it was time to admit defeat, wave his white flag, and call in for reinforcements? It wasn't as though Elizabeth, or even Annie, wouldn't jump at the chance to help him find someone.

But then again, maybe Annie was wrong and all those guys were just fucking idiots like he originally thought. He took another look at his friend and lulled the two options in his mind once more.

Damnit. She's right.

"So," he began while taking a deep breath, "what do you propose I do to fix this problem?"

Annie pulled her head back from Sebastian with her eyes comically wide as if he had just swiped at her face with some ridiculous weapon. That was not the reaction she had expected.

"Wait...really? I don't have to spend 10 minutes trying to convince you that I might have a point?" she asked, eyes still wide in disbelief.

"When have I ever given you the impression that I wasn't a person that could be reasoned with?" Sebastian asked with a rolled eye.

Annie looked doubtful, as if his rhetorical question was a trap.

"I don't..."

"Don't answer that, just...tell me what to do. I don't know how to do this whole...this whole dating thing," the last of his words were whispered as he looked to his left and right, making sure no one could hear him. It was as if he feared that word would get out about him trying to find a boyfriend and clearly, that was the worst thing that could happen to Sebastian Smythe's reputation.

"I don't know, Sebastian," Annie apologized with a regretful smile, "maybe find a site that picks guys for you? I don't have a lot of experience either. Maybe you have a friend who does?"

Sebastian groaned as he pulled his head off his arms and stood up straight, reaching his full height of over six feet, yet feeling like a small child. A name and face immediately popped up in his mind, but it wasn't exactly an avenue that he wanted to travel down.

"I do, but I don't know if it'll be worth it..."

— **Glee —**

"You're not gonna believe what just happened!" Elizabeth screamed into the phone, causing Sebastian to pull his away so as to preserve his hearing ability.

"Well, clearly you haven't just graduated from a course in phone etiquette," he growled, frowning at the nonexistent Elizabeth in front of him.

"Eric proposed!" she yelled again, ignoring or not comprehending Sebastian's words.

Sebastian's heart sank. It had happened. The moment he had feared had finally come. He choked on the air in his lungs, unsure of what to do or say. It was as if the carpet and been pulled from under him and he was left sitting on the ground, with a pain in his ass (and not the good kind).

Why was Life out to get him? What was this cosmic punishment centered around? It was as if Life had pulled out a frying pan and was laughing manically as it chased him around the room like some old-fashioned Saturday morning cartoon, swinging over and over, trying to hit him. He wouldn't be surprised if his bank suddenly called and said all his funds had been depleted or waking up and finding out that he was actually a natural red head. Life hated him. He didn't remember punching any orphans or setting fire to any preschools. His best friend was getting married. What was he supposed to say? He quickly squelched his first impulse.

_I doubt "Dear God, I hope you laughed in that idiot's face and then pushed him into oncoming traffic" would go over very well._

"That's...uh...that's really..."

"Please, Sebastian," came her sarcastic voice, "don't overwhelm me with your mastery of the English language or anything. It's not like I just got engaged."

"Congratulations?" he tried.

"I know you're not exactly his number one fan..." she began before stopping for a beat and allowing the silence to fill the time, "and I'll take your lack of a rebuttal as your unspoken agreement..."

Sebastian silently swore.

"...but I was hoping that you could at least put on a show and pretend to be happy for me right now. I'm your best friend. Come on! That's what friends do! We lie to each other to make each other feel better!"

Sebastian laughed, "I think that's one reason why people think our friendship is so unhealthy."

"Let the haters talk. I'm engaged and they're not!" she shouted again, the scent of joy was practically wafting from Sebastian's receiver.

"You are. And you'll be the hottest bride in history."

"Clearly."

"...after Dennis Rodman," he added.

"Well, that goes without saying."

Sebastian spent the next thirty or so minutes listening to his friend gush like a smitten schoolgirl talking about the boy who lent her his pencil. As she spoke, Sebastian began thinking more and more about how this moment in history would forever change the dynamic in their friendship. She would no longer be available to him whenever he needed her. The "we" that once included the two of them would soon turn into a "we" that he was no longer a part of. Maybe it was an appropriate time for him to try and find someone with whom to begin a relationship?

He almost vomited at his thoughts and his use of the R-word.

"So clearly, you're taking me out tonight to celebrate," she said, the excitement still evident in her voice.

A feeling of relief washed over Sebastian at his realization that his dismissal was not yet at hand, "My schedule is already cleared. Your treat, of course."

"For a trust fund baby, you're an incredibly cheap guy," Elizabeth teased, knowing that his response was one of their inside jokes.

"Why pay when you enjoy spoiling me so much?" he returned, his smile refusing to leave his face.

"So why'd you call anyway?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Well..."

While he was happy to be off the topic of marriage and Eric (another exaggerated miming of vomiting by Sebastian), he was still unsure if broaching the dating topic was a good idea. Despite his better judgment, Sebastian hesitantly shared his conversation that he had had with Annie earlier in the day. He told Elizabeth his doubts on his ability to find a good match for him and asked her if she had any thoughts that might be helpful in his predicament.

"Thank God! Finally, Ok so..."

Elizabeth wasted absolutely no time before telling Sebastian exactly what he had done wrong, why he was stupid, and exactly what steps needed to be taken to remedy the mess that he had created. Surprisingly, all of this had been done with very little insults or attacks on his character...or at least to a level that they, themselves, considered to be rude. Obviously, she was feeling generous and still riding the high of getting engaged.

"A matchmaker?" Sebastian cried in disbelief, as if she had just insulted his bank account.

"Yes, a matchmaker," Elizabeth repeated, once again explaining why it was a good idea and how it would solve his problem at being unable to find a compatible date.

"Do those even exist anymore? Do I have to pay them in goats or dragon eggs or something?" he questioned. For some unexplainable reason, Sebastian felt deeply opposed to the idea of having some stranger tell him who to date.

"They do. And thank you for that wonderful lesson in how things were bought hundreds of years ago. I'm sure schools across the land are vying to have you teach in their institutions. Our firm actually just handled a high-profile divorce for a couple that met through a service here in Chicago."

"Yeah, like that inspires a lot of confidence. Way to argue with divorce. You sure you're a lawyer?"

"Suck my dick, Sebastian. Infidelity happens in all relationships. Besides, it's not like _you_ have any room to talk. God knows your dick is the brains in your operation," Elizabeth bit back.

"Geez, anything else you wanna bust? Or are you content with just my balls?" Sebastian fired back.

"My point is," Elizabeth continued as if their exchange were nothing out of the ordinary, "there _are_ services here in the city, some really reputable ones too. I think you should go visit one."

"I'll think about it," Sebastian replied after a few seconds of silence, doubtful that he'd follow through with his words.

"That sounded really convincing. FOX is diving for their phones right now to have you star in their next lawyer drama. Are you sure _you're _a lawyer? 'Cause you kinda suck a lying."

"Suck my dick," Sebastian returned, doing his best impression of an annoyed Elizabeth and then laughing.

"Been there, done that. Eric's is bigger."

"Hey!"

— **Glee —**

Blaine continued to play with the phone sitting in front of him as he stared at the screen on his laptop. Rachel had emailed him with the name and number of a matchmaking service in Chicago. Her message said that she had a friend in Chicago who was using the service and that her friend highly recommended it.

He had been staring at the email for the past thirteen minutes, trying to decide what to do. A million different scenarios were flying through his head. Generally, Blaine was a careful person, not one to act impulsively. His stream of dates preceding this moment were in direct opposition to his persona, yet despite their horrific yieldings, Blaine had to admit that he hadn't felt so alive in months—not since he was happy with David. If he was honest with himself, there was a very large part of him that wanted to pick up his phone and call the number.

But what if things went horribly wrong? What if he went in and they told him they didn't have any matches for him? What if they said he was incompatible with everyone in their system? A matchless match?

Just as he was about to close his computer, he overheard his brother and Sam playing their video game in the other room. Sam's voice in particular was what caused him to freeze.

"Stop being a little bitch and just do it! Kill him! Use that rocket launcher..."

Blaine could then hear Cooper equally raising his voice and responding to Sam's orders. Despite the subject matter being vastly different, rocket launchers aside, Blaine couldn't help but feel as though Sam's outburst was a sign. With a shaky breath and an uncertain hand, Blaine unlocked his phone and punched in the phone number. After a friend voice answered with a greeting, the curly-haired man finally spoke.

"Hi, yeah. I was hoping you guys could help me out..."

— **Glee —**

Elizabeth took in a deep breath as she waited for the ringing in her ear to stop and for Sebastian to pick up his phone. What she was about to do wasn't going to be very easy, possibly a suicide mission, but the ends would justify the means. She looked around the street, hoping to spot Sebastian before he made it to the table. Just as he answered his phone and asked her why she was calling, she spotted the well-dressed man on the opposite corner, waiting for the traffic to allow him to cross. The two made eye contact at the exact same moment.

_"No!" Eric repeated._

_"Why not?" Elizabeth asked, annoyed that her fiancé wasn't going along with her plan. Whatever happened to them being a team? Through thick and thin? For better or for worse? Weren't they supposed to be an inseparable team that could withstand hell and high water? Shouldn't they be able to face the minefields of life together and still come out unscathed? Wasn't their bond supposed to be the stuff that inspirational speeches in movies were made of?_

_If so, then why couldn't they take on a spoiled trust-fund lawyer with a superiority complex and a penchant for taking self-nudes? Honestly!_

_"Because he already hates me enough. I'm not gonna call into some dating service pretending to be him just so you can butt into his life!"_

_"He doesn't ha—"_

_"He hates me," Eric countered, giving her his most serious look as if she were a stupid child, claiming that she was only eating the Plato because it was actually candy._

_"How do you know that he—"_

"_He told me, Elizabeth."_

"_You must have mis—"_

_"I didn't misunderstand. He, point blank, told me to my face, 'I hate you.'"_

_"He was probably just ki—" she tried._

_"He wasn't kidding, Elizabeth."_

_"How do yo—"_

_"Because he said, 'I'm not kidding. I seriously hate you.'"_

It had taken some convincing, but she was eventually able to get Eric to call the service (though it had taken some more pleadings and a few sexual promises before he gave in).

"I have something to tell you..." she began. She could see his figure tense up, even from her position, so far away.

"What did you do?"

She hesitantly told him that she had called the service and made an appointment for him to go in that weekend. She quickly added that she only did it because she knew he'd never do it himself and it was obviously the right thing to do and that he shouldn't hate Eric for helping her because she forced him and that she was only looking out for him and that she really thought it would be a good thing and that he'd be happy one day that she did it.

She took deep breaths as she waited expectantly for him to react. She watched carefully, looking for any sign that he might immediately turn around and refuse to have lunch with her because he was so angry.

"Say something, Sebastian," she said, a little uncomfortable with the lack of reaction from him.

It was a few more seconds before he spoke, "You're paying for this, I hope you know."

She blinked. Was it really that simple? Where was the old Sebastian that would've thrown a bitch fit and stormed off, lamenting that she needed to stay out of his life and that he had never felt so patronized?

A matchmaker's fee was a small price to pay for getting him to do what she knew was best.

"I pay for everything else," she said with a hesitant smile, "Why stop now?"

"Indeed," he answered with a smirk as he made his way across the street and over to her table. He picketed his phone as he took his seat, as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

"I hope you know that this also counts as my present for this travesty of a wedding you're planning," Sebastian said without looking at her as he smiled and took his menu from their waitress.

Elizabeth choked on the water she had been sipping, putting it down and dabbing her mouth and chin with her napkin, "You bring a hot boyfriend to my wedding and _then_ I'll consider letting you off the hook from buying me this gorgeous set of plates that I saw the other day."

"As if you even cook," Sebastian laughed while turning the page in his menu.

She shrugged as her own eyes scanned the various different dishes that were listed, "You have to eat take out on _something_. I'm not some caveman who eats out of boxes and plastic containers."

The two had an enjoyable lunch, both ignoring the elephant in the room, the very topic that neither dared to bring up: Sebastian's weekend appointment.

— **Glee —**

After Blaine had set down the phone, he'd gone a little catatonic. It wasn't as though he'd made any grand commitment by making the appointment, but he hated to cancel once he'd already taken someone's time and affected their schedule. No, he wouldn't back out of it. He couldn't, and yet, he sort of instantly regretted calling. How was this his life now?

A matchmaker.

He'd called and arranged an appointment with a matchmaker. He'd listened to Rachel Berry, of all people, for dating advice! His disbelief was in no offense to Rachel, but her penchant for diving head first into relationships and then suddenly losing interest gave him cause for concern, not to mention her on-again-off-again relationship with Finn that seemed like it belonged on some primetime teenage soap opera more than real life. Maybe his decision was just as impulsive?

Head now in his hands, he bemoaned the decision.

His posture of defeating (or of frustrated constipation, depending on the context and setting) was, naturally, how his brother and best friend came to find him.

"Hey, B, I know you're not big on the Xbox, but we need a refer—Hey! What's up, Dude?" Sam dropped down into the space beside him on the bed, immediately concerned. Cooper nodded and took up the spot on his other side.

Being sandwiched in between his brother and best friend suddenly had Blaine feeling claustrophobic. He shook his head. He didn't really want to voice the latest development in the suckfest that was his love life to the man that had pushed him into the whole world of organized dating to begin with. Curse Sam Evans for not letting him bask in the glory of weeknights and weekends in sweat pants and watching reruns of his favorite HGTV home improvement shows.

"Nothing."

He didn't need to look up to know that Sam had cocked an eyebrow with scepticism. They weren't best friends for anything.

"Uh huh. Totally believable. You look like someone took all your hair gel and replaced it with Jell-o," he paused and shrugged, sharing a look with Cooper over the top of the shorter man's head, "again."

Cooper snorted and high-fived the blond, "Still epic, Evans! He was literally _this_ close to crying!"

When Blaine let out a huff of annoyance, the elder Anderson slung his arm around his shoulders and gave him a friendly shake. It was a gesture that was beyond familiar to the two brothers, Cooper's patented way of trying to deter his little brother's anger.

"Seriously, though, Little Brother, what's wrong? You look like they just discontinued your favorite hair gel. You didn't get a communicable disease from one of your new little playmates, did you?"

"Why do I even bother letting you back into my apartment?" Blaine asked, making a face at his brother's question. "And communicable disease, Cooper? Really? Have _you _got something you want to share with the rest of the class because I wasn't aware your vocabulary stretched that far."

"I'm hurt, Blainers. Really, I am."

Blaine rolled his eyes.

"Spell 'communicable disease' then."

"Sure, no problem, oh Douchey One. It's C-O-stopbeingadick!" Cooper said, pulling his arm back and glaring at a pair of hazel eyes that held their own anger.

"_I'm _being the di—"

"Guys! Come on, Man! B, what's wrong?" Sam pressed before the siblings could bicker themselves right off into a tangent. A fight was never a good thing for the Anderson brothers. He still remembered the time when they had literally resorted to the line "your face is stupid" and then wrestled on the ground, refusing to let go of the other for two hours and thirty-one minutes.

"Did you have another bad date? Maybe we should try a different website, or—"

"Ugh. No, Sam. No more websites. Just...no."

"But—"

"And for your information, I didn't have _another _bad date...I just had a very non-date lunch with Rachel."

Now it was Sam's turn to make a face, particularly when Cooper's eyes seemed to light up at the mention of Blaine's star-driven friend.

"Rachel-In-A-Touring-Show Rachel? _That_ Rachel?"

"Yes, Cooper. That Rachel."

"Do you think she cou—"

"No."

"But you didn—"

"No."

"But I jus—"

"No!"

"Come on!" Cooper whined, pouting like a six year old.

"Cooper!"

Cooper cried petulantly, arms up in the air, "But you didn't even let me finish!"

"Crack a 'that's what she said' joke, and I swear to God..." Blaine pointed at Sam before he could open his mouth. He left the threat open ended and turned back to his brother, away from Sam.

"You didn't _need _to, Coop. You do this every time she's in town. And just to meet the director or some of her contacts! Do you even _remember_ last year?"

"Uh..."

"Seriously? You tried to seduce her, Cooper! It was embarrassing for everyone involved. _Especially_ the mariachi band! And the kid you hired to hold a sign asking her to go out with you? And I'm not even mentioning her date!"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Cooper denied, his face doing a horrible job of hiding the truth.

"Really? You're telling me you don't even remember the poor guy that she was on a date with, _at the time_, rushing out of the restaurant in tears?"

Blue eyes went wide, "Oh! _That_ was her date? I just thought he was some emotionally retarded waiter or something!"

He took a moment of silent contemplation before shrugging. "Huh. Pity. We could have made beautiful stage children together."

"You..." Blaine was flabbergasted, "Coop, that's just _wrong_. God, how are we even related?"

"Because, clearly, God felt like taking pity on you and bestowing upon you the life-enhancing gift that is me as a brother and all that I—"

Sam waved all of that aside, determined to get to the point of why Blaine was so down and cutting off the actor before he could take up another twenty minutes of their lives with a long, drawn-out speech about how he is actually God's gift to man and how he should seriously, legally change his name to "The Gift."

"Okay, so...lunch with Rachel," Sam started, ignoring the outcry and glare for Cooper, "You don't usually come home from catching up with her looking like bow ties have been declared illegal under new State laws. What's going on, Man?"

Blaine sighed. "I told her about all the horrible dates I've been on, and she suggested..."

He sighed.

"She suggested...?"

"She suggested that I try a matchmaking service. So I called one and made an appointment for this weekend."

Sam and Cooper shared another look before the former simply shrugged.

"Okay..." he prodded, "and…you don't want to join one…because…it's Nazi affiliated?"

"No! I just…I don't want to be _that guy_, Sam: the guy who chases flings online and needs a matchmaking service to hook him up. What happened to meeting people at random on grand staircases or in bookstores or...Cooper, this isn't funny!"

"What? Can't a guy just start laughing for no reason whatsoever while his little brother is droning on and on like a bad Katherine Heigl movie?"

"Redundant!" Sam cried.

"I like her movies!" Blaine defended. His eyes narrowed once again at his brother when the older man coughed a poorly masked "you would."

"Are you good at acting at _anything_?" Blaine accused before letting out a most undignified yelp as his brother dove at him, tackling him onto the bed's mattress and effectively pinning him in twelve seconds.

"Still got it," Cooper smirked as he breathed down heavily onto his trapped little brother.

"Yeah, it's pretty impressive considering how old you are. But I guess it's not that hard when you have a few extra pounds on me and—"

"Hey!"

"Seriously!" Sam yelled from his standing spot next to the bed.

"He started it!" the two Anderson brothers yelled in unison, looking at Sam with pleading eyes before turning back to the other and continuing their Mary-Kate and Ashley impersonation, shouting out the same exclamations.

"Knock it off!" Sam yelled once more, though with more anger. Both men turned back to him, giving him their full attention, surprised at the tone of the blond's voice.

"Cooper, get off of him. Blaine, calm your tits and just go to your stupid appointment or whatever and do what they tell you. Get over whatever's going on and just do it. OK?"

The raven-haired man simply nodded his head slowly, not at all used to his roommate's outbursts. Sam Evans was possibly the most laidback person he'd ever known, so the fact that he raised his voice spoke volumes.

"Good, now Cooper, leave him alone and go back to the living room. I'm _this close_ to pwning you in th—"

"WHAT DO YOU _MEAN_ YOU'RE THIS CLOSE T—"

And the apartment returned back to normal.

— **Glee —**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (TheFauxMe): ****Soooo...what did you think? Favourite quote/scene? I know everyone's anxious for Blaine and Sebastian to meet, and next chapter contains The Moment (**gBw: my lovely co-author is mistaken unfortunately. They do not actually meet next chapter, but they should meet in the next, Chapter 7, unless we add more scenes and end up chopping it in half)**. But how will it happen? Bwahahaha! I'm so excited! And now I'll shut up before gotta B gets cranky at me for giving everything away. **

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (gotta B writin): So here is Chapter 5! I hope you all enjoyed it. Be sure to take a minute or two and jot down a review for your favorite two co-authors (winkwink) and let us know what you thought. Your favorite parts are always welcome, as are things that didn't work or things that you'd like to see in future chapters. Again, apologies to those who are waiting for the big meet to finally happen. As I wrote earlier, it _should_ be happening in two chapters! Cross your fingers.**

**A big thank you to all who reviewed since our last update and a warm welcome to all our new reviewers: BelaGray, SilentShade, Never Fly Away, Loki Firefox, AgainstAllOds, Misgranted, Louisiana0403, Mounica, Whookami, LittleMissMarie, LaidUp, Sabah, and TVTime. **

**Thank you to all who started following us: Arielle91, SilentShade, Anne0314, Louisiana0403, Whookami, norska, WildRose431, illogicalstarz, VALENteeth, PhoebeGleek. And just saying you guys, if you wanna review too…that's allowed lol.**

**And last but not least, to all those who favorited our little dog and pony show: Arielle91, SilentShade, marbletai, Whookami, WildRose431, PhoebeGleek. Thank you! We are honored to be a favorite. :)**

**Thank you again and I hope you all found some sort of amusement from this. Leave us a review and we'll catch you on the next update! Gracias, people! Also, PS, has anyone caught on to our chapter titles yet?**

**NEXT CHAPTER: **

"_What about your partner, Mr. Smythe? How do you think they should treat you in a relationship?"_

"_Like the gift of God that I am," he smiled, leaning back and directing a wink in the woman's direction. _


	6. I Never Promised You An Olive Garden

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (gotta B writin): And we're back! I think we just made the "every 3 weeks" goal that I set for us. This should've been up yesterday but…well…I thought going out to a bar would be more fun (not in an alcoholic way). Ok, I'll shut up. Enjoy!**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (TheFauxMe): ****Good morning/evening/whatever boys and girls. I hope you're having a wonderful day...no, wait, scratch that. I *know* you're having a great day because we're back with another chapter! Thanks again for the lovely feedback for last chapter. Seeing your reviews and PMs just makes my day (especially now that I have become trapped at home with a loud little slave master). Given my faux pas last time re: dodgy spoiler alert, I'm not saying anything else about what's coming up. Just read already!**

**DISCLAIMER: Neither of us have ever been to a matchmaker before and therefore, do not know how things are run. This is simply our little version of how we think it may go. Feel free to share any knowledge that you may have on the subject. We just ask that you go with it! :) **

— **Glee —**

**A Matchless Match**

**Chapter Five: I Never Promised You An Olive Garden**

"Thank you for coming in this morning. I understand that this is probably something new and a bit strange to you, but I'm certain that by the end of our time together, you will have found a wonderful match here in the city, Mr. Anderson."

"OK," Blaine replied uncertainly. His words came out more as a question that a statement.

His eyes traveled around the smartly decorated room. He was in the offices of the matchmaking service that Rachel had recommended. He took in the designer wallpaper, adding a different texture to the room as its soft gray color added a surprising sense of calm and comfort to the space. Unique artwork lined the walls. Everything about his surroundings screamed high end, a reassuring quality, and one that Blaine was thankful for considering he was trusting them to find him someone with whom to possibly spend the rest of his life.

He was suddenly grateful for the large trust that was in his bank account, a parting gift from his grandparents after their deaths. Had he been a normal high school teacher living in the city of Chicago, he doubted that the service would have been a viable option. Blaine was often uncomfortable thinking about the amount of financial security his name afforded him, up but he was definitely thankful all the same when it provided him means and opportunities that benefitted him. Who wouldn't?

"So what we're going to do today is just have a conversation. Please, just think of me as one of your friends and answer as honestly as possible. I have a list of questions that I need to ask you. Your answers will help us get to know you better and, in turn, help us find a match well suited for you," the woman delivered with a friendly smile, one that would surely put most people at ease.

"I think I could do that," Blaine said, shifting nervously in his seat. His overly analytical mind was racing through a myriad of possibilities of how the meeting could go. He began to worry that he'd answer incorrectly and say something stupid, causing the interviewer to deem him unmatchable and ask him to leave. As his mind jumped over to the next irrational worry, he silently admonished himself for jumping the gun, like he always did.

_Calm down! This hasn't even started yet and I'm already picturing the worst-case scenario. _

Blaine cleared his throat and as calmly as he could, crossed his legs and smiled expectantly, waiting for the first question. It seemed like it was going to be one of those "fake it 'till you make it" sort of scenarios. He just hoped his nerves wouldn't get the better of him and ruin the meeting.

— **Glee —**

"...and, in turn, they will help us find you a match," the woman smiled.

"Well then, by all means," Sebastian replied with a confident smirk that made the woman blush slightly, despite herself, "ask away."

"Why don't we start with some information about you? I have the survey and questionnaire here that you filled out for us—"

"Which was ridiculously long, if you ask me," Sebastian interrupted, frowning slightly, thinking back to how annoyed he was with the silly questions that were asked of him.

"I'm sorry Mr. Smythe, but they're unfortunately a necessary evil in our line of work. The questions may have seemed silly or over zealous in their number, but it really helps us narrow the interview questions so that we can really find out what type of match you're looking for and what type would be best suited to you."

Sebastian smirked slightly, unimpressed with the easy and apologetic smile that the woman offered. He was sure most people would have accepted her slightly embarrassed look at face value, but he was a lawyer, and furthermore, he was a Smythe: He had been trained on presenting his own farces from a very young age, having been raised in the deceiving universities of country clubs and gala events. The world of the wealthy one percent was a breeding ground for two-faced apologies and affected smiles. The woman was good, but Sebastian had seen better.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he replied, offering his own put-on apologetic smile and self-depreciating laugh, "I didn't mean to complain. No, it was fine. I guess I just didn't think I would write so much." He punctuated his friendly joke by shaking his hand and wincing slightly.

The woman's face shifted slightly, her hidden annoyance disappearing and a small laugh coming out.

_That's how you bullshit someone. Take notes...Idiot..._

— **Glee —**

"So Mr. Anderson," she began.

"Please, call me Blaine. You're making me feel like I'm at work…or in a Matrix movie," Blaine replied, laughing slightly and letting a lopsided grin stretch across his lips.

"Blaine," she corrected with her own smile, "you wrote that you're a teacher?"

Blaine nodded his agreement.

"Could you tell me a little bit about your job? Maybe a typical day for you there, what you teach, why you chose that profession? Anything related."

Blaine was taken aback. He hadn't anticipated a need to talk about his work. He thought they would ask him questions about past relationships or what he was looking for in a boyfriend.

"Uhh...sure..." he replied, quickly trying to think of answers to her questions, "I guess a typical day there for me starts kind of early in the morning. I tend to get to work around 5:45. Most of us, uhh...the teachers I mean, we usually end up being at school longer than the students. I used to stay after school, but then I started volunteering to help with different clubs after school, so I'd have to stay even later to actually get my work done."

"So you devote a lot of time to your work it sounds like?"

"Yeah, I guess...but I'm a teacher. I kind of have to," he answered with a shrug and smile. "If I wasn't devoting the time, the kids wouldn't get everything out of their time there like they should."

She nodded her head and scribbled some note down on her pad of paper. Blaine suddenly felt like he was at a therapy session.

"So what subjects do you teach, Blaine?"

"This year I'm teaching a few sections of literature, writing, and a music history course. I work with juniors and seniors mostly, but one of my lit classes is a sophomore section. Umm...I really like reading and I've dabbled in writing since about middle school. I took a creative writing course in college and really fell in love with it. Music is also a big passion of mine. I sang in my high schools' glee clubs and kept up with piano lessons all through college," he offered, adding the last part because he thought it might be relevant to offer some of his interests.

"Would you say that an interest in reading and music is a must for anyone that you'd want to marry?"

Blaine frowned, trying to decide how to answer, "I don't know that it's a must...well, no...I guess it is. They're both a big part of my life and I'd want someone who could understand and share them with me. Besides, I can't imagine an interesting person not enjoying at least one of those…Does that make me a snob?"

The woman smiled and shook her head, assuring Blaine that he wasn't being a snob at all and that it was important for him to share that type of information. Her words had a calming affect on the man.

"So why did you choose to be a teacher? From your information here, it looks like you come from a wealthy family. Not that I'm passing judgement, I think it's very commendable, but usually our clients..." her worlds trailed off, as if she was trying to find a polite way to finish her sentence.

"Have flashier jobs or work for big 500 companies?" he finished with a smile assuring her that he was not offended in the slightest. He laughed a little when she nodded her head, apologizing despite his assurance.

"We'll, my dad _did_ want me to join him at his firm. I got a lot of pressure from my parents to follow my dad into the business world. My older brother was an actor out in LA, so I think they thought that I'd be the one to go to work with my dad," he explained, feeling more and more comfortable, "but they definitely weren't thrilled when I told them I wanted to go into teaching."

"How did you take that? Their disapproval, that is."

"Well," Blaine thought, by now used to her questioning, "it was a bit difficult. While I'm not the type to let my parents dictate my life, I felt a little bad that I was disappointing them, my dad especially. I know he really wanted us to work together—especially after Cooper...uh, my brother, took off for LA—but sacrificing the rest of my life doing something I know my heart wasn't in, it just didn't seem like an option for me at the end of it all."

"So would you say that family is important to you, but not to the point where they're overly involved?"

"Yeah, I'd say that's a fair assessment," he nodded, amused that she was able to pull that information out of him. He was starting to see the method to her madness. He leaned back a little further into his chair, comfortable now and more confident in the woman's ability to garner whatever information she needed from him. Her levels of competency were putting him more and more at ease.

"What about your spouse? Do you think they should have a strong relationship with their family? How much importance do you put on that?"

"I think having a close relationship with his parents is important. I don't think I'd discount someone if things were strained there with his family, but if I'm being honest, I'd wonder how that would've affected him and how he relates to people. My mom always said you can tell a lot about a man by how he treats his mother. If a guy could be cruel or distant to his own mom...I guess a strong sense of family was ingrained in me a long time ago," Blaine answered, surprised by his words. He'd never thought about it, but family really was important to him. He couldn't imagine being with someone who wasn't close to theirs. Despite how crazy his parents and Cooper could drive him, Blaine couldn't imagine a life without them.

— **Glee —**

"...and family? How important would you rate that in your life?"

Sebastian almost snorted, amused by the question, "How low does your rating scale go?"

The woman smiled, "So I take it family isn't a big factor in your life."

"Lets just say we've found a way to keep peace, and that's the reason why my father is on the East Coast, my mother is in Paris, and I'm here."

"Is there any reason why that is, assuming you feel comfortable sharing any information. Please don't feel like you need to divulge anything you're not 100% OK with."

"It's fine," he waved his hand, dismissing her concern, "I've had a lifetime to come to terms with the answer to that question. Essentially, my parents have very high expectations for all things, including me. Needless to say, having a gay son didn't exactly fit into their plans for their life or mine: after I came out to them, the disappointment was pretty much a domino effect. Things got more and more strained, and I ended up out here. My father is friends with one of the senior partners at my firm. He helped me get my internship that I was able to turn into a job offer."

The woman nodded, jotting down notes.

"Moving out to Chicago ended up being the best thing that ever happened to me and strangely enough, I have my father to thank for that," Sebastian finished with a soft chuckle. He still got a kick out of the fact that his father was the reason for his happiness. If the old Ass Hat only knew how much he had helped Sebastian...

"So in a future husband, do you see them having a close relationship with their family, or a more detached relationship? Ideally?"

"Ideally?" Sebastian asked, thinking hard as he leaned back slightly. It was never a question that he had posed to himself. After a few minutes, he finally answered, "I suppose if I'm talking about an ideal man, he wouldn't be overly close with his family. I don't know how I would function going over for every holiday and birthday. I'm not exactly used to that. I'd probably say or do something wrong and cause problems, accidentally."

He paused, and then continued as he thought some more, "But that's not to say that I'd be opposed to it. I never had that growing up and I always kind of wished I had a family like I saw on TV. But no, if I'm describing the perfect situation, maybe it'd have to be someone closer to me than the Brady Bunch."

"OK, what about friends? We've found here that most people with strained familial relationships usually tend to create their own new families with a tight knit group of friends. Are there any particular people in your life that you consider so close that they might be family?"

Sebastian suddenly wondered if Elizabeth had put the woman up to asking that question. After all, she _was_ the one who was paying. It wouldn't surprise him.

"As a matter of fact, I do," he answered with a grin, just incase his friend had placed hidden cameras in the room, "I met her in law school. We started out a bit rocky, but eventually became really close friends. She's actually the one who talked me into coming here."

"What's her name? Tell me about her."

"Her name is Elizabeth. She's also a lawyer, obviously since I met her in law school. We're essentially the same person, which is probably why we clashed so much when we first met," he laughed as he leaned forward and continued speaking, his voice taking on a joking tone, "I don't know if you've been able to pick up on it, but I have quite the strong personality. I don't do well with having to share the spotlight, and neither does she."

"So you see yourself more as the center stage type of person?"

"I suppose," he answer, frowning slightly. Despite the truth in the statement, he didn't appreciate how that painted him.

"How do you think that affects the way you operate in a relationship?"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Sebastian responded, his frown etching itself further into his features. He was suddenly uncomfortable with the direction that their conversation was heading,

"I don't mean it in a bad way. Remember, this is a time of honesty and for both of us, actually, to take a look at how you are in relationships. Do you tend to find yourself the star of the relationship?...How about: Do you enjoy giving attention more or receiving it?"

"Well that's a bit unfair, isn't it? Doesn't everyone enjoy receiving attention more than getting it?"

"Not necessarily. Does that question bother you?" she asked, looking intently at him as if his answer might unlock some key as to understanding him.

"Yes," he responded flatly. "Who appreciates sounding selfish?"

"So do you think maybe you're selfish in your relationships, but that you don't actually wish to be?"

The question struck Sebastian as odd: he knew he was a bit on the self absorbed side, but he never really realized that the fact was upsetting to him. It seemed as though his visit to the service would be much more introspective than he had originally believed it would be. The more she spoke, the more he began to question his beliefs and the way he conducted himself with others.

_Elizabeth really owes me for this..._

"I suppose that'd be a fair assessment. I've never really thought about it," he replied, his words coming out tense. In his mind's eye, he could picture himself flipping back his chair and storming out of the room, much like he had with that Bible-humping loser that he had gone out with.

"Don't feel at all as though these are bad things. We all operate differently in relationships and with how we relate to one another in general. It's important to understand our own approaches before we look for others to connect with. For example, if you know you tend to be more on the receptive side of time and attention, then you would know to stay away from men who are similar to you in that respect, to look for men who are more giving and laid back."

There was an undeniable logic in her words, yet the information still didn't sit comfortably with him.

"Don't worry Mr. Smythe, this is hardly anything to be concerned with. Our job is to make sure you find the perfect partner. There are plenty of men with our agency that still fit what you want and need."

Sebastian supposed that with the amount of affluent clients she met with in any given week, a slightly high level of selfishness wasn't anything to bat an eye at.

"OK..." Sebastian answered, shifting in his seat and recrossing his opposite leg.

— **Glee—**

"...so would you say that you feel that time and attention for a healthy couple should be an even 50/50 split between the two?"

"I think so," Blaine nodded, thinking back to his time with David, "I've been in relationships with men who tend to be a bit less...willing to put in the effort. I think I may have a type."

Blaine's joke seemed to fall flat on the floor, the woman nodded her head a made more notes instead of laughing along with him. Blaine felt incredibly naked all of a sudden.

_Well that went over really well..._

"Why do you think that is? Searching out men who aren't able to reciprocate the way you want them to?"

"I don't think I do it on purpose," he defended, feeling a little uncomfortable, "I was only joking."

"But sometimes our jokes hold some truth to them. Think back to your past few relationships: How were they in giving you the attention that you wanted? Would you say they did a fair job of it?"

"No," Blaine responded after a few moments of hesitancy.

"How about this: Do you think you have high expectations in this area?"

Blaine shook his head, annoyed that she'd had the gall to even ask that question, though his temper quickly subsided when he reminded himself that this woman was ignorant to what had transpired between him, Kurt, and David.

"No, I've only had two relationships that hold any importance in my life. The first was with Kurt—"

"Yes, you wrote down that you dated through high school?" she interrupted while looking down at the packet he had filled out.

"Yeah, we dated my last two years of high school and then during my first two years in college. Things started really well, but I guess most relationships do. Towards the end of everything, especially during our year apart while I was finishing up in Ohio and he was already New York, things got...harder. We grew apart and into different people. We were able to fix things a bit when I came out to New York for school and to be with him, but they got worse as time went by: he became more focused on trying to make it and I ended up getting lost somewhere in the mix. I never really wanted to be the center of his universe, but it was hard to always be a distant second."

The memories swimming through his head caused him a little pain. He didn't like reliving those thoughts and it still seemed to be a sensitive topic for him. Despite the fact that he had long ago moved on from his relationship with Kurt, the fact that it was his first love still caused it to leave its mark, making it perpetually a sore topic for him.

"And with your last relationship?" she asked, glancing back down at his packet, "How about things with David?"

"Things with David," Blaine breathed out, stretching his arms as he placed his palms on his knees, "were pretty much the same thing."

Blaine went on to explain how the two had met, accidentally grabbing each other's orders at a coffee shop. The chance encounter turned into a long conversation that caused them both to be late for work. After seeing each other again a week later, David had taken it upon himself to invite Blaine to dinner, which the teacher quickly agreed to. Their romance soon blossomed and they found themselves in a committed relationship very soon after that. Things started going badly once the two moved in together. David's days at his law firm grew longer and longer, almost to the point where Blaine could wake up and go to bed without even seeing his boyfriend.

He still remembered the heated arguments and his frustrated tears that had been shed quite regularly. Angry shouts of "I never promised you that I'd be home every night. You knew this when we moved in together," and different variations of the rant, still echoed in Blaine's memory.

After the two would calm down and Blaine was able to communicate his thoughts and concerns to David about their lack of time spent together, the lawyer would always dismiss Blaine's worries, insisting that everything was fine, or as fine as things could be with their weekly arguments. Some more time passed before Blaine discovered that his boyfriend, the man he was living with, had been carrying on an affair with an intern at his firm. The two broke up immediately and Blaine moved in with Sam soon after.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Blaine," she said, her face falling into a sympathetic look. Blaine quickly thanked her for her concern, but assured her that he was fine with things and that he had gotten over them.

_Well, that's a lie._

"So should I make a little note to not pair you with a lawyer?" she asked, her lips turning upward as a small laugh fell out of her lips.

Blaine responded with his own laughter, "Yeah, lawyers are a bit of a sore topic for me."

"That brings up another question: How do you feel about professions that take up a lot of a person's time? Doctors, lawyers, and other jobs usually mean long workdays or work weeks. Would you prefer to meet a man who doesn't have such a demanding job? Or one with more time to devote to you and a possible family?"

Blaine frowned, "Well...I mean, I don't think that it's impossible to have a demanding job and still put in the effort to make time for another person. I can work long days and weeks with my school commitments, but I still always did my best to put an emphasis on making time for David. I think it all boils down to someone's commitment: if they really want to make time for me, then they will."

"Well said," she smiled.

Blaine answered with his own smile, feeling proud of his response. Looking back, Kurt and David had always come off as ambitious people. It made sense that they'd end up putting their aspirations at the top of their priority list. In fact, in hindsight, he didn't find it at all surprising that they did. What was even stranger was that he, Blaine, had always admired that quality about them. It was even a turn on for him if he was being honest. He sucked in his lower lip as he turned the information over in his mind. He had never thought about it before, but maybe he did have an attraction to men that wouldn't be able to give him enough attention?

_Well that's a depressing thought._

— **Glee —**

"What about your partner, Mr. Smythe? How do you think they should treat you in a relationship?"

"Like the gift of God that I am," he smiled, leaning back and directing a wink in the woman's direction.

After a quick laugh, she leveled him with a look, clearly imploring him to answer her question seriously.

"Fine, fine. I don't know, I've never really been in a relationship before so I'm not exactly sure how I'd want them to treat me," he shrugged, being as honest as possible.

"Well, think about in your ideal situation, the perfect man and perfect relationship that you picture in your head. How does that look?"

Sebastian furrowed his brow slightly as he thought. His ideal man? Relationship? His immediate reaction was someone with ripped muscles and his own trust fun that rivaled Sebastian's—but was still smaller, of course. They drank wine and enjoyed clubs together, sharing the occasional three-way when the mood struck them (it was important to always keep things exciting). But as he turned the idea around in his head, he doubted that _that_ was what she was asking him.

"Who do I picture him to be?" he asked, noticing her patient expression as she nodded her head, a single strand of hair momentarily falling into her face before being pulled back again.

"I...I think..." the words seemed to escape him. Having never seriously thought about the question, he thought it a bit unfair of life to pose it to him in such an important setting.

_Thanks for giving a guy time to actually consider the rest of his life…_

"I think he'd be someone who was understanding. I can work long hours, weekends even too, so he'd have to understand that and be OK with it. I don't think I'd like having to deal with him complaining about it or thinking I was fooling around on him...He should also be fun. I wouldn't consider myself an adventure seeker by any means, but the occasional idea pops into my head and I'd want someone to be able to keep up. Oh, and he needs to be smart. I don't mean 'Look at my wall of degrees and chemistry' smart or creepy child-genius smart, but definitely someone who could hold an intelligent conversation. I can't tell you how many guys I've met that have surprised me with their ability to tie a shoe," he rolled his eyes, thinking back to the male model who asked him how to spell the word "orange."

The woman nodded as he jotted down notes on her pad.

"A sense of humor and a backbone would be nice too. I like to joke, and so does Elizabeth. If he can't take a few teasings and throw back his own, I don't think he'd last very long. He also needs his own life. I don't want to be smothered in attention. Independence is a requirement for my sanity, sometimes."

"How much independence?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Not crazy amounts. I mean...I guess if I was in a relationship," he surprised himself by not shuddering at the words, "I'd want to actually feel like I was in one. But at the same time, I'm not gonna wear matching outfits and sing him a love song in public or anything."

"Hmm...that's interesting," the woman mumbled as she made some more notes.

"Why?" Sebastian asked, not letting his defensiveness expose itself in his tone.

"Oh no," she immediately assured him, "I'm not making a judgement, it's just I met with a young man this morning before you came in and he had a different answer...sort of," the last bit was added almost as an after thought, as though she suddenly disagreed with herself.

"Was he hot?" Sebastian asked, smirking in his seat.

"Does it matter if he was or wasn't?" she asked, answering his question with her own.

"Of course. You should always be attracted to who you're dating, shouldn't you? Isn't that what separates a boyfriend from a best friend? The sexual aspect?" Sebastian didn't have much experience with serious dating and relationships, but that wasn't to say that he was completely ignorant on the topic or without common sense.

"I suppose that's true," the woman conceded, "but I think the difference is in the amount of attraction a person requires."

"How so?" Sebastian challenged.

"Well, for example, does your ideal man _need_ to have the body of a male model or would it be enough for him to be reasonably fit and have an attractive face?"

"My _ideal man_ would—"

"Fair enough. What about just a real man, someone that we set you up with. You walk in and he doesn't have five percent body fat. What then?"

"Well, I don't know how I'd know that unless our date was at a nudist beach," he smirked when she rolled her eyes at him playfully, "but...I don't know..."

Sebastian found himself unsure of how to continue. Every single romantic encounter for him had always been fueled by physical attraction. He had never once bothered to figure the hopes and dreams of the men that he laid with. It wouldn't have been very apropos for him to pull out of a sweaty and panting man to ask him about his childhood or some other inane question. A man's level of attractiveness had always been the driving factor for him...though, if Sebastian were to look at things objectively, that hadn't gotten him very far. Sure, it provided him was a very satisfying number of orgasms and conquests, but at the end of the day, he was still at a matchmaking service while his best friend was engaged—Eric's incompetency at life notwithstanding. Maybe it was time to try something different? After all, wasn't that why he was even sitting in the damn office?

A cloudy expression had set up camp on Sebastian's features as his mind continued his line of thinking, "I suppose...he doesn't _have_ to be a male model, if you're dragging it out of me. I don't think it's superficial and too much to ask for reasonable good looks, but no, I don't think I'd walk out if he had a proper level of attractiveness. As long as he doesn't take me somewhere like Olive Garden, or something. A gentleman has to have his standards, after all."

"Very well then," she said with a nod.

"Besides, that's why they invented gyms, right?"

A laugh was heard as disapproving eyes peered over a writing pad.

— **Glee —**

"So if you boiled everything down to a paragraph or so, describe your ideal match."

Blaine let out a long breath as he took in the question. It was the culmination of that morning's long conversation, the apex, the pinnacle moment deciding how his future might follow. Blaine tried to think quickly, both of what his answer was and how to best communicate it.

"I think I'm looking for a bit of a contradiction. I want someone laid back and down to Earth, but someone who still is up for an adventure every now and then. I want someone who can make me laugh, but who also is able to be serious. I want him to be kind and have a big heart. He has to be understanding of my work and the dedication that it sometimes requires. He can have his own career and aspirations, but he should always be willing to put us first, just like I am. He should be someone that I feel completely comfortable with, that makes me feel like I'm always at home when I'm with him, no matter where we are. He'll be someone who isn't afraid to open up about tough stuff, or to look silly or stupid, to laugh at himself. I want someone who wants to grow old with me, who wants a family. I want someone who can enjoy lazy mornings with me in bed without feeling like we're wasting the day or getting restless."

Blaine was pulled out of his thoughts, the room coming back into focus as he looked around, feeling a little embarrassed at how honest he had been.

"Umm...yeah, that's what I want. I mean," he smiled as he studied the floor, feeling the heat in his cheeks, "I mean, as long as they take me to Olive Garden for some breadsticks, I'll be happy."

The woman laughed softly as she smiled at the top of Blaine's head, the brunette still hiding his blush.

— **Glee —**

"So let's just have you sum up everything we've just talked about. If you could describe your perfect match in a paragraph or so, how would you describe him?"

"Please, don't worry about putting me on the spot or anything," Sebastian joked, having grown comfortable around the woman after their lengthy conversation.

"If you need to take a few minutes, please do. Don't feel like you have to answer right away. It's an important question.

Sebastian nodded as he leaned back into the cushion of the seat, seeking comfort in the way that it softly supported his back. He tipped his head back and breathed out slowly, turning the question over in his mind for a few moments.

_What do I want him to be like?_

"He should be...strong and independent. I want someone who has their own life and who's able to stand up for himself and what he believes in. No one wants a weakling or a Yes Man...or at least I don't. But that's not to say that I want someone who challenges me at every turn. Ideally, we'll have similar ideas and approaches to things. I would prefer someone who came from the same background as me, growing up with money or at least knowing the ties of what comes along with it. Even though I don't live close to my family, there are still a lot of responsibilities I have as a Smythe and it'd be a lot easier if he already had some exposure to that and what that meant. I want someone who can get along with Elizabeth because she'll undeniably be a part of my life."

He paused, thinking some more as to what he wanted to say.

"But he should also be maybe someone who's grounded. I can get worked up or overreact to things, so it'd be nice to have an anchor, someone to calm me down or talk me off a ledge. And someone patient. I don't doubt that I'll royally screw things up at some point, so he'll need to understand that I'm new at all of this. He should also be sure of what he wants because I don't want someone changing their mind a few months into this. If I'm willing to really give it all I've got, he should too. I guess...I guess I just need someone who can stand next to me, not in front of or behind me, and not be intimidating or overwhelmed as to what that entails..."

Sebastian's voice trailed off, his eyes fixed on a spot on the wall behind the woman's shoulders. He didn't know where half of his words had come from. It was as though someone else had taken over and began speaking for him. Since when did he want all of those things? It was like the more he talked, the less he was himself and the more he started speaking for some part of him that he had never known before. After a few seconds had passed and he realized that he was staring off into nothingness like an idiot, he quickly blinked his eyes and looked back at the woman in front of him who was smiling.

"You're not the first person who's been surprised with their answer. People tend to really reach deep down with that last question and come up with a part of them that they didn't even know was there," she remarked, offering him some peace of mind that he hadn't just been the first weirdo to lay his heart, unknowingly, out for her to see.

"Who knew I was so deep?" Sebastian jested, searching for a way to pull them out of such a serious moment, he was uncomfortable with serious moments. They always made him feel as though Barney would pop out of nowhere and demand that everyone hug.

"Is there anything else you'd like to add?" she asked as he pulled the cap off the end of her pen and prepared to replace it on the other end, effectively laying the writing utensil down to rest.

"Yeah," Sebastian quipped with a smirk, "he should also be hung like a beast. You guys do include that information in our profiles, right? If I could maybe get a list of guys who are bigg—"

The woman quickly capped her pen and waved her hand and Sebastian, causing him to stop, all the while rolling her eyes and shaking her head in a disapproving manner. She suddenly reminded him of an amused Annie who wished she wasn't so amused.

"Unfortunately for you, we do not."

"Drat!" came his response, coupled with an exaggerated swinging of his arm and snap of his fingers.

"We'll, I suppose that's all the time I'll need to steal from you. I think we can put together a pretty comprehensive profile for you and come up with some possible options that may work out."

Sebastian got out of his seat and shook the woman's outstretched hand. He hesitated, unsure of whether or not he would ask what he wanted to ask. He shook his head and turned to walk out of the room. Just as he teacher the door way and had already pulled the door open, he stopped his movements, if only for the briefest of moments, before shutting the door again and turning to the woman who he had just spilled his guts too.

He regarded her with a moment of thought. He had never been that vulnerable or exposed with anyone before, not even Annie or Elizabeth. The thought was jarring and surprised him, making him wonder why he had said to her everything that he had actually said.

"Do you," he paused before continuing, "do you think you'll really be able to find someone like that?"

The woman's expression changed from one of curiosity to understanding, then it shifted seamlessly into a smile, "Of course. Actually, without even doing any searching through our profiles, I think I already have someone in mind for you. You may not be as hopeless as you think yourself to be, Mr. Smythe."

A smile appeared on Sebastian's face as he nodded and exited through the door.

— **Glee —**

"Umm...yeah, that's what I want," Blaine finished as he felt his cheeks grow a little red, clearly communicating the fact that he felt a little foolish.

"Don't be so embarrassed Blaine. You aren't the first person to be so candid about what he pictures. I've heard everything between here and the Sun, and I promise that your answer was far from the silliest answer I've heard. It's commendable how honest you were able to be. Not many people are capable of that," she reassured with a gentle smile.

"If you say so," he grinned back and laughed uncomfortably. His fingers drummed against his thighs as he looked around, unsure of what would happen next.

"So that completes our time together, unless you have something more you'd like to add? I think we have enough information to out together a pretty comprehensive profile for you. Your answers were all very thorough and," she leaned forward, speaking a little quieter, "if I can say something just between you and me, you seem to fit what most of our clients are looking for. I don't think we'll have a problem with finding you someone."

Blaine blushed at the comment, always uncomfortable when he was given a compliment. After a lifetime and praise from most people in his life, he had never grown accustomed to the flattery of others. He looked down and mumbled a response that was completely unintelligible to the woman.

"If you ever decided to date women, I think I could have a group whose line wrapped around the building," she joked, causing Blaine to blush even more.

"We'll, I appreciate the offer, but I don't think that will happen anytime soon," he responded, his cheeks burning even hotter, his mind momentarily revisiting his foray into women and the unfortunate kiss shared with Rachel. He paused, allowing the temperature of his face to fall back to a normal level. He wanted to ask a question, which was probably stupid since she had already assured him, but he wouldn't be Blaine Anderson if he didn't ask.

"Do you really think that there's someone out there for me?" he grimaced at how pathetic that sounded immediately. Blaine could only imagine the various creative teasings that Cooper and Sam would hurl at him if they had heard his words. He thought quickly of how to better phrase the question, but found himself stumped at how to proceed with that.

"Of course. Like I said, you'll be an easy match," she reassured him, looking at him as though he were an adorable puppy that had just sneezed. She stood up and offered her hand to Blaine, signaling that their time was up.

"Thanks a lot for this. I've kind of did a horrible job of finding guys on my own. Hopefully you'll have better luck," he smiled.

"Don't worry Blaine, I think you should expect a call from us very soon."

Another smile.

He made his way through the office, smiling at people as he passed them by. He noted a very attractive man sitting in the waiting room reading a magazine as nonchalantly as one could do with shaking hands. Blaine smiled to himself, sure that that was exactly how he had probably looked earlier in the day. He offered the man a smile as he passed, pleased to relieve one in return, as he pushed open the office door leading to the hallway and elevator, he suddenly felt a lot better, as though a million different doors were just waiting to be opened to him.

_Maybe this is a good thing…_

Just as his step grew a bit into a dance, he slipped and almost knocked into a poshly dressed woman who was passing him by. His apologetic smile waned as she swatted him with her purse and hurried off in a humph.

…_or maybe not._

— **Glee —**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (TheFauxMe): ****So, to totally toot my own horn (and gotta B's, because...y'know...who wouldn't?) wasn't that fun? I can see so many different ways for it to play out from here...I'd love to hear your theories! I'm quite happily sitting back grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and I want to high-five my co-author (**gBw: HIGH FIVE!**) for working his magic. Make sure you guys do that for me - he deserves your love. And reviews are love. To everyone listed below (or above...wherever gotta B has put the list this chapter) I'm sending hugs and high-fives and cookies your way. But, given that I don't know where you live...I'll have to eat the cookies for you. I'm selfless that way. Seriously though, there are so many things I wanted to say and now I've forgotten them. Sigh. It's probably for the best, I think I've babbled enough for one chapter. Ciao for now my lovelies!**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE (gottaBwritin): So I hope everyone enjoyed it, and I second Faux's encouragement to share your theories with us. I think that'd be awesome! So I hope you enjoyed this chapter. When I wrote it and sent it off to my lovely partner, I was a bit worried because it's different from the rest of the story, more serious, but I tried to insert our humor in there as much as possible. I'm cautiously excited to heard your thoughts on how things went, in your opinion. If you weren't as big a fan, then rest assured that things return to normal in the next chapter (if the preview below this is any indication).**

**As always, a huge shout out to our reviewers. You guys are the reason that we enjoy writing this little dog and pony show so much. While we thoroughly amuse ourselves with these chapters, we live for your thoughts and feedback, so keep it coming! An overzealous thanks to: TVTime (times 3), WildRose431, BelaGray, LaidUp, Sabah, LittleMissMarie, Man of Many Pairings, Misgranted, Chrysalyss, Sundae-flurry, and Whookami! Cookies to all!**

**A humble thank you to all those who decided to follow this story: PhoebeGleek, Man of Many Pairings, Chrysalyss, Sundae-flurry, Eveleine, and brainfrz23. And I'll say the same thing to you that I said to WildRose431, you guys can review too! Haha**

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**You guys rock. A thousand thank you's, etcetera, etcetera…**

**Until next time, People!**

**P.S. …am I the only one who had feelings about the premiere this week? Because…honestly…come on… **

**NEXT CHAPTER: **

_"Wait, when you say he brought some fruit, you mean—"_

"_I mean he literally had to have taken a trip down the produce aisle before he picked me up," a frowning gently pulling at his lips, "and I'm pretty sure he threw a pineapple chunk at the back of my head when I left."_


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